Return of the Prince
by AnneCaterina
Summary: A young wizard returns from the dead, not knowing who he his or what happened to him. He grudgingly accepts help from old colleagues and new acquaintances to reclaim his past, but finds out more than he bargained for. Will he vanquish his demons in time to help a new friend in need - or will he prove himself irredeemable once and for all?
1. Chapter 1: Awakening - part 1

Cold air bit into his lungs as he took his first new breath. He quickly sat up, scooted back against the wall and let his eyes dart around the dimly lit room. Every fibre of his body prepared for the attack. The enemy was hiding, ready to spring upon him. His hand flew to his hip to grab his wand, but found nothing. Frenzied, he stared into the room, bracing himself for the blow.

No blow came.

The quick, shallow gasps agitating his chest got calmer. No one was there. He kept staring into the empty room. Grey light squeezed through the cracks of the boarded-up windows. His hand was still on his hip. Something was wrong. He looked down, and all he could see was pallid skin stretched over the outlines of bones. A curtain of lank, black hair framed the field of his vision. He hugged his knees into his chest, nervously looking around. Who had undressed him and taken his wand? Could they be waiting somewhere close by, ready to strike the moment he tried to get up?

He let his forehead sink onto his knees and pricked his ears. The wooden walls of the shack faintly creaked in the wind. _This shack... it has a name_. He had been here before. Wait, were those... footsteps? A quiet rustling, now it was gone. _There, again... No, a mouse_. He took a deep breath and exhaled, shivering. Now that he had convinced himself that there was no imminent danger, the cold became impossible to ignore. There was a bed not too far away. On its discolored mattress lay some ragged, moth-eaten blankets. Could he dare to move or should he try listening again, to make absolutely sure? But his teeth would not stop clattering. _If someone wanted to hurt me, they would have done so by now_.

He stretched his legs and gingerly got to his feet. Walking seemed difficult, as if he had only learned how to do it recently. When he got to the bed, he touched one of the blankets, closing his long fingers around one of its folds. His pulse quickened and he felt the urge to leap away from the bed, but resisted it. With a deep, steadying breath, he ripped the blanket away. A rusty spring that poked through the sunken mattress gave a little twang that sent adrenaline rushing through him. Nothing else happened. He exhaled. Slowly and stiffly, he wound the rag around himself. There was another one still on the bed. His fear had subsided, but he repeated the yanking operation, just to be sure. The blankets brought little relief. They were so clammy and moth-eaten that they would not keep a freezing death away for long.

He could have conjured a magical fire if he had his wand. But, wandless as he was, he would need to find another way to warm up. His best bet was to get out of this shack and search for someone who could help him. Maybe they could even shed some light on what had happened to him. Or help him recall who he was. He took a few cautious steps toward a crooked door when he caught movement in the corner of his eye. He whirled around, searching for the source. What he found was his own, indistinct reflection in the shards of a dusty mirror. He stared at the blurry outline of his body until his heart beat at normal speed again. He did not approach the mirror further. He was afraid of what he might see.

His toes were now so cold they had stopped hurting. He needed to get out fast. Beside the door, daylight shone through the cracks of a boarded-up window. Beyond the door lay freedom. He grasped the handle and pulled. The door gave a little way in its flimsy frame but didn't open. He tried pushing, with the same result - he was trapped. He studied the door. Around its edge, rusty nails fixed it to its frame - it had been sealed from the inside. However, the whole thing seemed so old and decayed, it might budge if he pulled hard enough. Leaning forward, he closed both hands around the handle. He tore at it, throwing himself back with all his might. The rags he had wound around himself slipped to the floor. The door creaked and cracked, but didn't open. He tried again. More cracking. Once more he pulled, but to no avail. "Come _on_". He gritted his teeth, tightened his grip around the handle and adjusted his stance, pushing his naked feet into the floor and pulled.

With an almighty wrench, the door crashed open, sending him stumbling backwards. But no light streamed in. There were only more boards. _Someone really tried to make sure no one got in. Or out_. He sat down on the floor, propping himself up on his hands and started kicking at the boards maniacally. A few splinters found their way into his flesh, but he didn't stop before he had managed to kick out the lower three boards. He flopped onto his stomach and pulled himself forward.

He cowered before the decrepit shack, naked and freezing, not knowing where he was or where he could go. Reaching into the opening he had made, he retrieved the blankets. After he had wrapped them around himself once more, he took in his current situation.

A bare meadow under a leaden sky. Icy wind tore at the branches of a few leafless trees. He turned his head further and his heart leaped – there were cottages in the distance, thin ribbons of smoke rising from their chimneys. He took a step from the broken board he stood on, setting his foot on a ground strewn with wet leaves. He started toward the cottages at a trot. After walking for a short while, he realized a cobblestone road leading into the village.

He chose to walk parallel to the road instead of on it. As he saw the outlines of the first houses' roof shingles, a raindrop hit the crown of his head. Another one splashed onto the bridge of his nose, and several on his chest and shoulders. Within seconds, a downpour of fat, ice-cold drops had enveloped him. They pierced his flesh and constricted his chest like an iron band. He started to run, gasping for air. His numb toes caught on something sticking out of the ground and he fell flat onto his front. There was too much pain in his body to still register whether the fall had hurt. He scrambled to his feet, leaving one soaked blanket in the dirt. Their only use now was to keep his decency.

He finally arrived at the village, half mad with cold and pain and desperation. Stumbling into a path off the main road, he saw a sign dangling over a door. _An inn!_ He just managed to bang his fist against the thick wood as he slumped awkwardly against the door. It opened and he fell inside.


	2. Chapter 2: Awakening - part 2

Now look what the goat dragged in", a gruff voice said. Someone grabbed his arm, pulling him upwards. His knees gave way and he collapsed again.

"It's like that, eh?" the voice said with a hint of irritation. "Really, you people might want to check the way you're running around. I mean, I'm fine with getting all sorts here, I'm not one to ask too many questions, but this..." The innkeeper gave the young man on the floor a tiny kick that only resulted in a whimper, "Alright, alright," the innkeeper groaned, "You don't look like you're weighing anything, anyway."

The young man was hoisted up and heaved onto a pair of shoulders. Despite his state, he found this intrusion unseemly.

"Wait..." he said weakly.

"No use waiting, can't have a corpse lying in my bar. We gotta get you in a hot bath."

Given the fact that he had lost the feeling in all four of his limbs, the young man could not argue with that. The innkeeper climbed a set of stairs, huffing and groaning. Through half-closed eyes, the young man saw that his host had a grey beard and wore shabby clothes. For a second, he wondered if he was safe with this person. At present, though, he had no choice but to trust the old man. A key clacked in a lock and door hinges creaked. The sound of running water came from an adjacent room. The young man was eased onto a bed and covered with a thick comforter. The rag he had worn made a splatting noise when the old man threw it on the floor. The innkeeper took something out of a nearby wardrobe, then turned and walked towards the young man.

"You better sit up. Don't you fall asleep on me." The innkeeper held out a large, fraying towel, blocking his own view. The young man pushed back the comforter, sat up and covered himself with the towel. It all seemed to take a painfully long time.

"Now come along, the tub should be ready." The innkeeper waved a wand in the direction of the adjacent room and the noise of running water stopped. Making small, shuffling steps, the young man moved towards the other room. He pushed the door open and saw a large tub full of steaming hot water and a mountain of soap bubbles.

"Should I, er, help you get in?" the innkeeper asked.

The young man gave a curt nod, not looking directly at the other. The innkeeper came to stand close to the tub, cleared his throat and held out his forearm while purposefully looking at his own feet. The young man took hold of the proffered forearm and climbed into the tub. The water burned his feet. He gasped and grabbed the outstretched forearm maybe a little too hard, because the innkeeper said, wincing, "Get a hold of yourself, it'll be better in a second." He turned out to be right. While the heat still pricked at the young man's flesh, it became less painful with every passing breath. Slowly, he lowered himself into the tub; inch by inch he surrendered his half-frozen body to the scalding water. When he was finally fully submerged, he breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes.

"Well, I'll lea—" the innkeeper stopped mid-sentence. The young man opened his eyes to find the other scrutinizing him with a furrowed brow, his mouth slightly open. The innkeeper gave an embarrassed little laugh, saying "Nah, it's... never mind, I'll leave you to it. Here's another towel and I'll put a meal in your room. And clothes. Don't want you running around like that in my inn. And don't you dare try any funny business! I'll know!" He turned to leave the bathroom, but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. "Name's Ab, by the way."

The water did not cool, not even after what must have been almost an hour. After the young man had climbed out of the tub, he rubbed himself dry with one of the threadbare towels. As promised, a set of greyish and beige clothes - underwear, trousers, shirts and wizard's robes, even a pair of shoes - waited for him in the living room, next to a tray with a silver plate cover. When the young man removed the cover, the food was still perfectly hot. He quickly put on the underwear and shirt and sat down at the desk to eat. It was a simple stew, but it felt like the best meal he ever had.

The warmth, from outside and within, made him comfortably drowsy. He crawled under the bedcovers and fell asleep instantly.

In his dream, he was on top of a cliff at night, kneeling in the dirt, clutching the hem of an old wizard's robes. He was beside himself with rage and grief, and he needed to tell the old wizard something important, something about life and death. But the wind ripped all the words from his lips so he could not hear himself speak.

He jerked awake, still filled with a feeling of horrible, painful grief. It took a few moments before he understood that it had been a dream. Turning to his other side, he fell back asleep.

The next morning, he put on the rest of the clothes Ab had left. The shoes, at their tips, had parted company with the soles, and the trousers had been mended several times. He looked at himself in the mirror stuck to one of the wardrobe doors. A flash of loathing towards his own reflection rolled over him. The clothes did not fit right, they hung limply off his slight frame. _Better than nothing, I suppose._

He left his room and quietly descended the stairs to the bar, hoping no other guest would be there. A clock on the wall told him that it was only half past six. Ab would probably not be awake yet. The young man climbed onto one of the bar stools. On the wall behind the bar hung a painting of a young witch. He looked at it for a while, studying her melancholy expression. She turned a little from side to side, blinking every now and then. She gave the impression that she was waiting for someone she knew would never come. Something deep inside the young man welled up, sending a feeling of hopelessness through him. It seemed to reach out to him from a long way off, like a wave rolling onto the beach after having travelled the breadth of the ocean. He knew that something terrible had happened to him a long time ago. Not knowing what it was made it all the more frightening.

He buried his face in his hands, straining his mind for some recollection. The shack... he'd had a feeling that he had been there before. Only it had been nighttime then. He called the image of the room before his mind's eye and tried to imagine it in the darkness. There was someone else in the shack with him. An eerie light shone upon the other person or... was it a person? The memory made him shiver. He opened his eyes and suddenly found his entire field of vision filled with a huge wide-open mouth, long fangs ready to rip out his throat. He threw himself backwards, toppling off the barstool. He looked up, gasping in terror. There was only the grimy underside of the bar. A door opened and closed and hurried footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. Ab burst into the bar.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he barked.

"I... fell off," the young wizard said unnecessarily.

"Why would you do that?" Ab asked.

The young man felt the heat rise in his face and quickly hid between his curtains of hair, irritated at his embarrassment. He scrambled to his feet and tried to get up with as dignified an air as possible.

"I did not mean to wake you," he murmured as he picked up the barstool.

Ab rubbed his face with both hands. "Never mind", he grumbled. "I need to get cleaning anyway. You want some breakfast?"

The young man nodded briefly. After ten minutes of scurrying about, Ab set down two plates of bacon, eggs, beans and toast, together with two goblets of water. As he ate, the young man caught Ab trying to sneak a look at his face. He looked up at the old wizard. Ab's eyes widened. "Um, well, I... thought I might know you from somewhere." he mumbled, avoiding the young man's gaze.

"You do?" said the young man, hopeful to get some answers.

"Yeah, I mean... you can't really be that person but you sure look a lot like him... I think."

"Who do I remind you of?" the young man urged.

"Nah, never mind, it's impossible," Ab said with a little mirthless laugh.

The young man thumped his fist onto the bar, yelling "Just tell me!"

"Don't you go shouting at me in my own bar, especially after getting a free room and food and clothes!" Ab growled. "I know full well I won't be seeing any money from you. I mean, you'd have to pull it out of your—" At that moment, the door of the inn opened and a huge, wet pile of assorted animal skins slowly made its way inside. "Mornin' Ab," a deep voice said from behind the pile. The young man heard the flapping sound of an umbrella being shaken. He used the momentary distraction to swiftly disappear through the other door and sneak upstairs. The front door slammed shut and the deep voice said, "Jus' came by for a spot o' breakfast," and something about Bowtruckles.

The young wizard went into his room and sat down at the desk. Ab had been right about the money. He would need to leave as soon as possible. All the more so since the innkeeper was behaving strangely around him. It made him uncomfortable. He'd have to steal the clothes. But where would he even go? He could go back to the shack to try and remember how he had gotten there in the first place. It was as good an idea as any.

But first, he had to wait for the huge man with the deep voice to leave. To pass the time, he studied a short row of books on a small shelf above the desk. They all looked quite dirty and tattered. He scanned the titles: "Remaining Unseen Under All Circumstances", "Wizarding Law: The Loopholes", "The Monster Book of Monsters, Non-Monster Edition", "Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed", "Anti-Anti-Venoms", "Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century", and "Forbidden Magical Creatures". That last one actually seemed to be a romance novel. On its cracked spine a scantily-clad witch lasciviously batted her lashes and tossed her hair for the benefit of a muscly wizard with even less clothes on. Shaking his head, he went back to the previous book. Maybe reading about Wizarding History would bring back some of his memories.

He was lying on the bed reading about a magizoologist whose name had rung a bell, when he heard muffled voices outside of his door. He tried to return his focus to the book but the voices did not go away. In fact, the conversation seemed to get a little heated. Quietly, he got off the bed and tiptoed to the door, then pressed his ear against it.

"... can't very well just knock and ask whether it is him!" someone hissed. The voice sounded like it might belong to an elderly lady.

"He's the spitting image, I'm telling you! Seems much younger, but still!" That was Ab.

"And _I'm_ telling _you_, it's impossible. He's dead." Definitely a lady, and a stern one.

"The body was never retrieved, now, was it!"

"There are reasons for that, as you full well know! And it is beside the point, the boy saw him die, Aberforth." That must be Ab's full name.

"Well, that may all be true, but I swear to you, this bloke looks exactly like him. I know how crazy it sounds. But just knock and see for yourself!"

The lady clicked her tongue impatiently. "And what am I supposed to say? 'Excuse me sir, are you Severus Snape, risen from the dead?'"

The young man never heard Ab's reply. A prickling sensation spread from his heart throughout his entire body. His mouth dried up, his limbs stiffened and his fingers bent into claws. All the air seemed to have left the room. He took a few stalking steps, wheezing desperately. His pulse was racing. "Severus Snape" - the name echoed inside his head spoken, screamed, shouted, whispered in a thousand voices, deafening and terrible. He was dying. Falling, he somehow managed to grab the door handle.

The two people in the hall jumped when he collapsed at their feet. "Help... me," he croaked. Then the world went out of focus and disappeared.


	3. Chapter 3: Old Colleagues - part 1

A calm ocean of pure white lay endlessly around him. It was neither warm nor cold, neither hard nor soft, neither bright nor dark. Low voices drifted to him from far away, then faded. Gradually, the voices became more persistent, attaching blurred faces to themselves. The faces hovered, unthreatening, drifting now closer, now further away. Finally, they ceased to be and everything became still again.

The whiteness had been replaced by reddish darkness, interjected with dim flashes of light that were accompanied by ripples of headache. He longed for that absence of sensations and for the calm, benevolent voices. Instead, images from the day before crept up before his mind's eye. Had it been the day before? The pain in his head intensified. He curled up on his side, groaning. A door handle creaked and muffled footsteps hurried towards him. Not yet ready for human contact, he kept his eyes shut and tried to breathe calmly through the pulsating pain in his head. The person stopped by the side of his bed. He tried to stay perfectly quiet and convincingly feign sleep. After a short while, the person went away.

It was day. Cold, silvery sunlight filtered through the windows into the large room, which he occupied alone. His bed stood by a window, three more beds were next to it, and four additional beds stood against the opposite wall. He remembered this room, though he had never been in one of the beds. Urgent things and worries had been discussed here, and he had been one of those who had discussed them. He used to be important in this place. Not just this room, but the entire building.

"He's awake," a female voice said in the hallway. His pulse quickened and he briefly considered pretending to be asleep again, but two elderly ladies were already approaching him. The one in the back stopped dead in her tracks the moment she saw his face. Somehow he knew that she was the owner of the stern voice he had heard at the inn, although there was nothing stern about the way she looked at him now.

She walked towards him slowly, studying his face. When she had arrived at his bedside, she said, "Your eyes... it really is you. I wasn't sure back at the Hog's Head. I couldn't believe it. But here you are. You look so... young." Her gaze darted to his left arm. "May I?" she asked. The young wizard had no idea what she was about to do but was too bewildered to decline. She gently picked up his wrist and turned the inside of his left forearm upwards. She inhaled audibly. The young man looked at his own arm but could see nothing out of the ordinary there. The woman released him and he could have sworn her eyes were watery.

"Who..." he croaked, then cleared his throat. "Who am I?" The woman's eyes widened in surprise.

"I knew you as Severus Snape," she said softly.

His limbs stiffened. "No!" he exclaimed hoarsely. He remembered them now, those last seconds at the inn, before he had fallen down unconscious. The same terror took hold of him now. He clutched the sides of the bed and started shaking uncontrollably. "Poppy, quickly!" The woman by his bed called to the other. The latter hurried to his side and held a vial under his nose, using her hand to fan the fumes raising from it towards him. A relieving calm spread inside of him and he fell back into his pillows.

"Don't say that name," he whispered. "Who are you?"

"My name is Minerva McGonagall." She looked at him searchingly.

He creased his brow, saying, "I know you... We... worked together." A word surfaced in his mind. "Professor," he muttered.

The woman called Minerva nodded. He tried to pull up more memories, but none would come. As he shifted his gaze to the other lady, she answered the question in his eyes: "I am Poppy Pomfrey, the nurse at this school."

"The school," he echoed. None of the things he had just heard were new to him, although he would not have known them by himself.

"What happened to you?" Minerva asked.

He said the only thing he knew for sure. "I woke up."

She let out a small breath and kept looking at him. His answer did apparently not satisfy her. Gathering what little knowledge he had, he continued, "I was inside a shack. It was boarded up. I got out and walked to the village, where I found the inn. The owner let me have a room." Thinking about that room brought up a question. "At the inn... how did you know I was there?"

"The innkeeper thought that he recognized you, although he had only seen you – the old you, that is – a few times. He sent me an owl. I thought he must have gone raving mad, but he insisted, and so I went down to see for myself. And then you came toppling through that door.

"It was obvious you needed immediate medical attention, so I did what I could to stabilize you and alerted Madam Pomfrey. She administered a potion to put you to sleep. We brought you back here during the night."

Minerva exchanged a nervous look with Madam Pomfrey, then asked, addressing him, "Is there anything you need to tell us?"

Her tone insinuated that she expected that there was, in fact, something to tell. He had no idea what she meant. She continued, hesitatingly,

"Do you remember any... precautions that you took during your past life?"

"Past life? What precautions?"

"In order to avoid the permanence of death?"

"Death? Was I... dead?"

"Yes."

The young wizard accepted the information without emotion. It made no difference.

"Although..." Minerva continued.

He was being accused of something. He sat up, his blood flowing faster.

Miverva's eyes bored into his. "No wizard has ever been known to rise from being truly dead. If word gets out that you are back, people will assume that you used Dark Magic or a dangerous magical artefact. Or that you have not, in fact, been dead at all."

"I don't remember planning anything. I don't remember anything at all," he said, returning the woman's stare.

After a pause, Minerva's gaze softened and she said, "I believe you."

He sank back into the bed. "When did I die?" he asked. "And of what?"

Minerva's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but she quickly resumed her countenance. "You died about a year and a half ago. The reason—"

Madam Pomfrey cut her off, saying, "I do not think that it will be wise to simply tell you everything that happened, given how... unstable you are. It would be best to help you remember things yourself, bit by bit. I have little expertise in such matters, so I will contact a specialist at St. Mungo's to treat you. We will let you rest now."

Minerva got up. Madam Pomfrey gave him a shrewd look before she turned and walked away, Minerva in her wake.

He did not like the way they had interrogated him, and how the decision to call in a specialist had been made entirely without him. What little taste he had had of his memories did not bode well for what else may be in his past. He could not let a stranger extract it from him. His first day of being conscious almost made him wish he wasn't.

He knew there was something there, something substantial. Something terrible. He had felt it when he had seen the painting of the girl behind the bar at the Hog's Head. And then there had been that vision, that monstrous mouth with the fangs. He wanted nothing to do with those memories. They needed to be forgotten as soon as possible. He was relieved now that he never got to go back to the shack. Whatever past had happened to him there could stay in the past. He had been dead, Minerva had said. And he could remember nothing. Almost nothing. There had to be a reason for all this. Surely, it was that he should leave the past behind and start afresh.

However, a few hours later, Madam Pomfrey came to tell him that a Healer from St. Mungo's would be arriving the next day. He had just woken up from a nap, his headache had all but disappeared and he felt much more alert. "I don't want to talk to someone about my memories. I decided not to get them back," he said.

"Let's not decide anything before you talked to him," the matron assuaged him. Apparently, that settled the matter for her, as she briskly turned and walked away, leaving the young man to the battle being fought in his head. Should he refuse to see the Healer or should he talk to him before making up his mind? For a split second, curiosity about what had happened to him flickered up. _No, it's too dangerous_. He was sure that he wouldn't like what he found out. Then again, Minerva had reacted so strongly to seeing him again. And then there was this sense that he had been important here. Very important. Maybe he could be again? Caught up in his spiraling thoughts, he did not find sleep until very late that night.

He woke up just as restless as he had gone to sleep. After almost three days in this bed, he was longing to stretch his legs – and his mind. Turning the same thoughts over and over was making him anxious.

He cautiously put his naked feet onto the cold stone floor. What a refreshing feeling after the warm, stuffy bed! The clothes Ab had given him lay on a stool beside his bed, clean and neatly folded. He exchanged them for the nightshirt he was wearing. His mind craved for some intellectual activity. He was a wizard – so why not learn about magic?

The matron at first denied his request for books, saying that anything he read might remind him of his past life. However, she had to admit that letting him brood, bored and alone with his thoughts, might be even more dangerous. Not long after breakfast, she brought him a small stack of books, which she put on a table by the windows with a disapproving look. "I need you to wear this, if you're going to read." She thrust an amulet at him. "It will alert me when you start having trouble because your _reading_ has triggered any emotional responses," she huffed.

"Thank you," he said, ignoring her disapproval and scrutinizing the books. They were very basic textbooks for first-year students. He took the topmost one, "The Standard Book of Spells" and buried himself in it. He did not study the books, he simply read them cover to cover. Wonderfully, regaining this kind of knowledge did not have any distressing side effects. Instead, it opened a reassuringly familiar part of his mind. Like the names of the two women had immediately fallen into place, he knew everything he read. He finished the entire stack of books in one day.

The next day he had breakfast while starting on a new pile of books Madam Pomfrey had provided, somewhat mollified by the absence of dire consequences. When he snapped shut the first book of the day, satisfied that he had known everything in this one as well, he heard the matron utter words of greeting to someone who had entered the Hospital Wing.

"He's right over there," she said to the visitor and the two came walking down the aisle between the beds. An unpleasant sensation fluttered through the young wizard's stomach. Lost in his studies, he had almost forgotten that the Healer was due today.

"This is Xanimus Caedmon," Madam Pomfrey gestured toward the short, bald man next to her. He was of middle age, but his broad chest and shoulders and upright posture suggested the physique of a younger man. His face looked like there was always a smile right underneath the surface, ready to come out at any time.

"Healer Caedmon specializes in—" the matron hesitated, and, turning towards the guest, said, "Maybe you should explain your particular expertise yourself," whereupon she discreetly removed herself from the conversation.

Healer Caedmon stepped forward and stretched out his hand. Suspicious of the Healer's beaming attitude, the young wizard remained in his chair, but did take the offered hand. He received a strong, amicable handshake and the words "Xanimus Caedmon, I'm very pleased to meet you! Call me Xanimus." The Healer pulled up a chair from the other side of the table, sat down opposite the young man and started to explain, "I specialize in ailments of the mind, mostly reversing unwanted or accidental Obliviations. Your case is unique, though; I have never done something quite like this. I think it would be best not to bring your memory back by magic, since you have shown some strong, unpleasant reactions after experiencing flashbacks, is that correct?" The young man only nodded, not betraying how he would actually rather go far, far away, where no one would try and force him to bring back his memories. The Healer seemed unperturbed by the withdrawn manner of his new patient and went on: "We will try to utilize your own subconsciousness to reclaim the memories that are probably still buried in there. This will be a long and slow process, but it will at least be relatively safe."

The young man scoffed, "relatively safe!"

Xanimus considered the young wizard with an understanding look. "I would be concerned if you had no misgivings. As I understood, even hearing your own name triggers a bad reaction, so I know that we need to go extremely slowly. I will do my utmost to protect you from unwanted side effects. However, this will only work if you yourself are willing to start the treatment. It is your decision entirely." He leaned back in his chair.

There was a seal in the young wizard's mind that did not want to be broken. His hesitance must have shown on his face, for the Healer said, "Think about it," with an air of finality. Xanimus gave the young wizard one last, friendly glance, then got up and left. At the door, the young man heard him exchange a few words with Madam Pomfrey, whose voice sounded irritated. And sure enough, she set down his dinner plate much harder than necessary.\\\


	4. Chapter 4: Old Colleagues - part 2

The next few days passed in the same way as the ones before. The young man remained in the hospital wing and spent his time studying. He got more and more convinced that no, he did not want his memories back. He felt comfortable like this, reviving his knowledge of magic, being disturbed only by someone bringing him food, not having to explain anything or answer to anyone.  
However, with every day that went by, Madam Pomfrey got more obviously irritated. Part of him even enjoyed vexing her. Just by being there, he could manipulate her mood, he didn't even have to do anything. He knew that it was not right, but couldn't help but feel a little superior.  
It did not help that he gradually found out that he seemed to be a rather knowledgeable wizard. He had arrived at year five of the textbooks and had not yet encountered anything he wasn't familiar with. So naturally, it was time to venture further than theories. He needed a wand. Madam Pomfrey would probably know where to get one. He got up from his studying table and walked to her office. The door was open and the matron sat at her desk, bent over a piece of parchment. When she realized he was there, she snapped, "What is it?"  
"I need a wand. Where can I get one?"  
She gave him a very ugly look. "As someone who is not even capable of hearing his own name, yet at the very hint of proper treatment simply refuses, you have a lot of nerve asking me this question! Despite what you seem to think, I am not an idiot. Your insolence has not gone unnoticed by me. You have a long way to go before you can get a wand again, and accepting treatment is the first step. To be frank, if you were anyone else, I would have put you back on the streets days ago. If you don't want to get better, fine, but don't waste my time with it. This is not a hotel. It is only on Minerva's request that you are still here!"  
This was unbelievable. How could she, a mere nurse, refuse him his basic rights! He took a big breath to give her a piece of his mind, when he was interrupted.  
"It is indeed." Unheard by both of them, Minerva had entered the short hallway that led to the Hospital Wing. "I think it is time you and I have a little talk." This she addressed at the young wizard, and her voice did not allow for any opposition. She led him back into the large room, walking at a brisk pace, and gestured for him to sit down at the table. She, however, remained standing. "What did you say to make Poppy so upset?" she requested. He was getting quite frustrated with these two women shutting him up here, dictating his every move and getting angry the second he made a perfectly reasonable request.  
"I merely asked to be given a wand. It is my righ wizard. I do not remember much, but I do know that I used to have a wand. I think it is only logical I have one again," he said, forcing his voice to stay calm. Minerva seemed dumbstruck. After a minute, she finally asked "Would you even know how to use it?"  
"I have studied all week. I know everything in those textbooks from before. And I have a strong feeling that I know more than that, still. Far more."  
"I do not think it wise to allow you to have a wand merely because you claim to know how to use it."  
"Allow!" the young man snarled and half rose from his chair. "I am an adult, I do not need to be 'allowed' anything! Tell me how to get a wand and I will do it myself."  
"Absolutely not!" Minerva interjected sharply. Something in her expression fell away. She sighed and sat down in a chair. She massaged the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. "Sit down, please." Her voice sounded tired. Surprised by her sudden change of manner, he obeyed.  
"I will try to make you understand why I do not think you should get a wand just yet, and why I do not want you to leave, either," she said. "You're right, you are a very knowledgeable wizard. If you had a wand, you would also quickly find that you are very skilled." The young man started to say something, but Minerva cut him off. "Do not interrupt me." She shot him a warning look. "I don't want to say too much for you to handle, but many wizards in this country know who you are. However, the role you played in recent events are not without controversy, so allowing you to leave would put you in danger. Anything anyone might say to you can trigger another attack. This is also the reason why I don't want your return to become widely known just yet. I saw the look on your face when you fell out of that room at the Hog's Head. It scared me. You cannot even bear hearing your own name, for goodness sake."  
Something stirred within the young man when he heard that many wizards knew him. _Not again_, he thought, for his chest constricted and breathing became difficult. Minerva leaned forward, alarmed "Should I get the smelling potion?" she asked. The young wizard could only nod. She hurried to his nightstand to retrieve the bottle, pulled out the cork and held it under his nose. The fumes calmed him down.  
"And about the wand," Minerva continued more gently, "Emotions are a strong catalyst for magic. If you have a reaction like you just showed with a wand in your hand, you could seriously injure someone, including yourself."  
The young wizard put his hands to his face and rested his elbows on his knees. He knew nothing about his past, yet it affected him gravely. Despite the calming potion, hopelessness took hold of him. He had to get out of here, away from this place that triggered his memories, away from these people who wanted exactly that to happen. Minerva seemed to have read his mind, for she said, "I understand that it's frustrating not to know anything about yourself. I very strongly advise you to work with Healer Caedmon. I know that it is scary, but it is your best hope."  
"Scary?" The young man sat bolt upright. "That is not why I do not want to do this. I simply did not feel it is necessary to dig up a past that apparently better remains forgotten!"  
"But it is," Minerva replied quietly. "And when I knew you, you would never shy away from something that was necessary, even if it was frightening... Only this time, you could benefit yourself instead of everyone else..." She looked at him with a sad smile. "Please, Se-" She checked herself just in time. "Please, do think about it. Earnestly!"  
The exchange with Minerva had exhausted him, so he went to bed. In his dream, he sat in a high-backed chair that was much too large for him. A little way off, another person stood facing away from him. They wore robes trimmed with silver and had long, white hair flowing down their back. In this dream, he heard himself say with a choked voice, "I wish I was dead".

He awoke with a gasp. Again, that unspeakable grief washed over him. He tore at his hair. "Stop it, go away!" he moaned, shaking his head as if to shake off the emotions. Slowly, they ebbed away, but they left a bitter aftertaste. Was this going to be his life? With a frustrated yell, he kicked the covers off the bed.  
Minerva was right. No amount of struggling against it would make it less true: He did not function properly. Distracting himself with books, with proving to himself what a great wizard he was, only worked as long as he had no time to think. As soon as he put the books away, the past came rushing back into his subconscious, wreaking havoc in his mind.  
He switched on the lamp on his nightstand and sat up in bed. He would distract himself one more time, but only until the morning.  
When he heard Madam Pomfrey's key clacking as she unlocked her office, he jumped out of bed and hurried up to her. "I need to speak to Minerva as soon as possible."  
Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrows. "Good morning," she said pointedly. "Minerva will come here as soon as she has time in her busy schedule. She is, after all, the Headmistress."  
The young wizard did not quite understand why this should mean that Minerva couldn't speak to him right now. Madam Pomfrey was turning away from him, but he arrested her, saying, "No, you need to fetch her right now."  
"I am not your errand boy! You will need to wait." She briskly stepped through her door and shut it in his face with more rigor than was strictly necessary.  
However, she seemed to have asked the Headmistress to come after all, for only half an hour later, Minerva strode into the hospital wing.  
"You wanted to speak to me?" her voice was softer than it had been the day before.  
"Yes, I... made up my mind. I will work with the Healer."  
Minerva let out a small breath and said, "I am very happy to hear that. Although you could have just told Poppy, she is the one who will contact him."  
He felt a surge of reluctance at these words. He would much rather keep the matron out of this. He had to gather his willpower not to immediately regret his decision.  
"I will go now. I will let Poppy know that she should set up a meeting."  
The young wizard bit his tongue. Hopefully, all this would be worth it and he could get his memories back quickly, and leave all this behind him.

He slept much better that night and, when he woke up, could not remember what he had dreamt. As he got up and reached for his clothes, he hesitated. The clothes on the stool beside his bed were markedly different from those he had taken off the evening before. The clothes from Ab had been shades of grey or beige. Now, he was looking at a set of entirely black clothes. He stared at them for a moment, then picked up the topmost item. A note fell out. _I thought you might feel more comfortable in these_, it said, in a tidy handwriting. It was signed with _M.M._  
They fit him marvelously. These were the kind of clothes he would have picked out for himself. _Maybe I did_. After all, Minerva did know him from before. Quite well, it seemed. He ran his hands down his chest and stomach to his hips, then clenched his right hand into a fist. No wand. Yet.

The Healer arrived that same afternoon. He happily plopped himself down on the chair next to the young wizard, saying "I am excited to be back. Are you ready to begin your treatment?"  
The young wizard nodded slowly.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! I'd be thrilled if you could leave me a fave or a review! Next chapter will be up on Thursday.


	5. Chapter 5: New Aquaintances - part 1

"We will start by going to a few places in an around this castle that should be familiar to you, but without deeper meaning. That way, we will attempt to bring back a general feeling for your past life, but hopefully not trigger any distressing memories. Once you feel more confident, we are going to visit the rooms were you mainly worked. That's where we might enter the territory of concrete recollections. Does that sound like a good plan?"  
The young wizard swallowed. "What if I have... a bad reaction?"  
"I will be there at all times. Should the situation get out of control, I will have a potion or incantation ready. Now, as I understood, your past holds some traumatic experiences. We will try to get at those as late in your healing process at possible. For, now, we will remain on safe ground.  
"Let's start with something simple, to reassure you. We'll go out into the school grounds. Lessons are in full swing right now, so we will not run into any students."  
The young wizards heart pounded as Xanimus led him out of a side door of the hospital wing. He did not feel entirely ready for this. And yet, he had to start somewhere. The two men walked through a garden with neatly arranged flowerbeds surrounded by symmetrical paths. White pebbles crunched underneath their feet as they walked towards a frail wooden archway entwined with in bare, interwoven branches. A landscape of gently rolling hills covered in brown autumn grass and scattered trees stretched out before them.  
"What date is it?" the young man asked  
The Healer stopped walking and looked at his companion, pondering him. "Today is November 12th, Nineteen-Ninety-Nine."  
The year meant nothing to the young wizard, it seemed neither strange nor familiar. The month, on the other hand, stirred something in him. He let his gaze travel across the landscape. It was flanked by a thick forest on one side. _I have been here_.  
A mixture of familiarity and mild aversion washed over him, then made way for something from deeper within. The same melancholy that had overcome him when he had looked at the painting of the young woman, back at the inn, took hold of him. His hands started tingling and his windpipe narrowed. He closed his eyes to shut out the image.  
"Deep breaths," the Healer's voice said. "Try to hold on to reality. Focus on the sounds around you, the wind on your skin."  
The young man did his utmost to draw air into his lungs. The wind howled around the castle and stirred his hair. Slowly, the anxiety subsided.  
"Well done," Xanimus said. "You're off to a good start. Let's walk a bit further."  
They followed a wide path downhill. A low autumn sun sent its cold glare over the vast grounds. When a large structure came into view in the distance, the young wizard stopped. "I know this," he said.  
The Healer followed the young man's gaze. "Yes, that's where we're headed," he smiled. They kept walking and finally arrived at a large, oval enclosure surrounded by tall stands made of an intricate wooden scaffold. The young wizard had to tip his head all the way back to look up to the three big hoops towering on high poles beside him.  
A word escaped him. "Quidditch". He looked across the field to the goalposts on the other side, then started walking slowly toward the center of the pitch, where he stopped to take in his surroundings. The Healer followed at a short distance. When he had caught up with the young man, he asked "Do you like Quidditch?"  
After a pause, the young man answered, "'Like' is not quite the word."  
_Fierce. Merciless. Unrelenting._  
He tried to remember the exact nature of the game. Before his mind's eye he vividly saw people speeding back and forth across the field on broomsticks, tossing, catching and hitting balls. He had not particularly enjoyed watching them do this, yet he had witnessed it countless times.  
It had been about winning. The imperative _need_ to win. He felt the urge to see the pitch from the same perspective he'd had back in his past life, when watching a match.  
"I'd like to go into the stands," he said.  
They climbed up and up the nearest wooden scaffold until they arrived back in the open air, rows of seats rising up beside them. Choosing the front row, the young wizard sat down in one of the wooden benches. He sat straight and rigid, squinting at the goalposts. He used to watch the match attentively, ready to dispute any of the referee's decisions. Slytherin had to win at all costs. The name sent a shock through his body. "Slytherin," he said. The Healer, who had sat down next to him, leaned forward to closely look at the young man.  
"Slytherin," the young wizard repeated, "Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw... _Gryffindor_." He uttered the last word through clenched teeth. A barrage of thoughts chased each other in his mind, making words of spite pour out of his mouth. "Everybody loved them so much, Gryffindor. Somehow or other, they managed to sneak their way to victory almost every time. Other people might not be as flashy and charismatic as they are, but why does that mean the others have to be overlooked and cast aside? Why is it that the one who shouts the loudest gets heard, even though their arguments are far from convincing?" He jumped up, his hands balled into fists. "People are scum!" he spat. He wanted to kick or smash something. A coarse, angry shout escaped his throat. Why didn't the Healer do anything? Xanimus had extracted himself from the row of seats, but now he just stood there, watching the agitated young man.  
"What?!" he snapped at the Healer.  
"I'm simply standing by to assist you if necessary."  
"Well, are you enjoying the show?" the young wizard barked, then writhed his way out of the row of seats. He blew past Xanimua, resisting his urge to hit or shove him, and thundered down the stairs, his steps making the whole structure vibrate.  
Xanimus caught up with him while he was leaving the pitch. The young man walked at a quick pace, his hands still curled into fists. The powerlessness against his overwhelming anger was maddening. The name of that house, Gryffindor, had opened up a world of hatred in his mind. He stopped, turned around and barked, "Do something!" at Xanimus, who, in turn, looked deep into the young man's eyes.  
"Remember what you did earlier. Take a deep breath," he said.  
The young wizard groaned frustratedly and started walking again. This was much too strong to be remedied by simple breathing! Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Xanimus was keeping up with him. He wheeled round, shouting, "stop gawking at me and _do something_."  
"You can manage this yourself, just do as I say."  
The young man was about to turn away again when Xanimus caught him by the shoulders and held them with considerable strength, just short of hurting him.  
"Try it!" Xanimus insisted. The young man gave up some of his resistance. Xanimus seemed to register this, for he loosened his grip. "Breathe in as deeply as you can, then push out every last bit of air... Good. Again. Go slowly."  
The cold autumn air flowing through his nose and windpipe helped the young wizard focus on reality, and finally cooled his anger.  
Xanimus let go of his shoulders and said, "After your next inhale, hold your breath for three heartbeats, then exhale through your mouth." he waited for the young man to do this, then said, "Repeat." While the young wizard still felt a little ill-tempered, the worst of his fury had subsided.  
"Why didn't you help me earlier?" he growled.  
"You need to experience the emotions that come up with your memories. It's the first step to truly remembering your past. You'll get used to it."  
"Used to it! I thought it was your job to make sure that I did not suffer adverse effects from this whole process!"  
"My job is to guide you and make sure you are not in real danger. But the actual work you need to do yourself"  
The young man swore. The Healer looked at him earnestly and said, "This process will be hard, painful even. But I can promise you that the outcome will be worth it."  
"I want to go back to the hospital wing." He was exhausted.  
The two men set off along the path and went back through the garden into the castle. While they had walked, dusk had rapidly enveloped the grounds. When they were in the corridor of the hospital wing, they heard voices from inside. One of them was most definitely that of Madam Pomfrey, the other sounded like that of a young girl.  
"Must be an emergency," Xanimus said. "It's better if you don't go in, there's a good chance the student might know you from before." While he spoke, steps could be heard approaching the door from inside the room. Madam Pomfrey jumped a little when she noticed the two people standing in the dark corridor. She approached them and whispered, "A student hurt herself and needed attention. I will have to keep her here over night. The Headmistress has prepared another room for you. You will have to walk a short distance, but everyone is at dinner, so you can get there unseen. But you need to go now, and be quick!" She gave them directions to the room and they set off quietly.  
The halls in this part of the castle were only dimly lit; no one came here in the evening. Despite this, the young wizard kept looking around himself nervously and pricking his ears for any sounds. Suddenly, a shriek pierced the empty hallways. His heart stopped for a second. Before he could make out where the noise had come from, an awful, cackling laughter could be heard, then crashing and banging, accompanied by shouts of "Stop!", "Don't!", "Leave me alone!", and assorted swear words.  
The Healer and the young man looked at each other, wide-eyed and clueless.


	6. Chapter 6: New Aquaintances - part 2

Xanimus gestured at the young man to stay behind, and quietly walked towards the source of the commotion. It seemed to come from the very staircase they needed to climb to get to the young wizard's makeshift bedroom.  
"Hey, you!" Xanimus shouted at an unseen person, looking up the stairs. Whomever he had shouted at cackled even louder, and blew a raspberry. An almighty crash made the young wizard's ears ring. He quickly ducked when the transparent figure of a fat little man soared above his head, pelting him with small chunks of metal. As they clanged to the ground, the young man recognized them as the finger pieces of a suit of armor. He tried to protect his head with his hands and to keep his face hidden between his curtains of hair. He ran towards the staircase, trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the poltergeist. Luckily, the poltergeist seemed to fancy some new mischief and sunk through the floor, his two middle fingers the last things to disappear.  
With the cacophony of clanging armor pieces gone, the young man could hear two voices talk quietly. One of them belonged to Xanimus, the other sounded agitated and like it belonged to a woman. She sniffled and swore softly. Careful not to make a sound, the young wizard inched toward the staircase. Poking his head around the corner, he could see Xanimus' back and someone sitting on the stairs. The Healer had grabbed her arm and pulled. Apparently, the woman had trouble getting up.  
"It's a trick step," the young man heard himself say. "A couple of troublemakers enchanted it many years ago. No one can get rid of it. You need to say 'I'm as stupid as an ass' three times to get it to release you." He was as surprised as the other two by the words that had just come out of his mouth. He stared at Xanimus, who stared back, first a little concerned, but soon rather amused, for no emotional outburst came with this bit of reclaimed information.  
"Excuse me?" the woman on the steps said incredulously. Xanimus stepped aside. One of the woman's legs was stuck in the trick step up to her thigh. She looked extremely uncomfortable. The young man's heartbeat quickened for a moment. Did she know him from before? But she showed no sign of recognition.  
"You need to say-"  
"I heard you," the young woman interrupted, "I'm just not very comfortable with saying it. Is this real or are you messing with me?" He noticed a slight accent in her speech.  
"It's real," he answered.  
"Could you guys turn around?" she asked. Both he and Xanimus hesitated. "Please?!" she insisted. After they had turned their backs on her, she mumbled the offending sentence, then could be heard straining. "Why can't I get out? I said the thing!"  
"You have to say it loudly, clearly audible," the young wizard said without turning around. She groaned, then inhaled and said very loudly "I'm as stupid as an ass!" three times. With a sucking noise, the staircase released her. The young man looked over his shoulder hesitantly.  
"You can turn back now," the woman mumbled. She tucked a strand of her dark, chin-length hair behind her ear and picked up her bag that lay beside her on the stairs. The clothes she wore struck the young wizard as odd. They were Muggle clothes, he realized. She must have seen him staring at her, for she shrugged and said, addressing him, "I teach Muggle Studies. Might as well look the part." With a composed smile, she descended the last few steps and held out her hand. "I'm Mette Vestergaard."  
"Oh, where are you from?" Xanimus asked. Was he really making conversation now? They needed to get to the room before dinner was over!  
"Norway. Who are you guys? Thanks for getting me out of that step, by the way."  
"My name is Xanimus Caedmon, this is my... colleague," Xanimus blurted. "We're here on... business". The young wizard squirmed on the inside. Professor Vestergaard also looked very doubtful. "Anyway..." the Healer said weakly, "We'd better go."  
Professor Vestergaard shot the young wizard one last, intrigued look before she departed and the men continued up the stairs, carefully skipping over the trick step.  
The moment the door of the makeshift bedroom closed behind them, the young man confronted the Healer. "What was that? She obviously did not believe you!" he snarled.  
"I... what would you have me do?" Xanimus seemed taken aback.  
"Ask her what she was doing in that part of the castle while everyone else was at dinner."  
"You heard her, she is a teacher. I assume she may go wherever she pleases."  
"It doesn't matter. She was flustered already, if we had antagonized her before she had the chance to introduce herself, she would have just left, too preoccupied with feeling hurt and confused."  
A gleam appeared in Xanimus' eyes. "What you just said, did this occur to you quite naturally or did you think of it while we were walking up?"  
"It would have been the logical course of action to protect ourselves from being discovered."  
Xanimus nodded, with a hint of a smile.  
"I don't see how this is amusing," the young man snapped.  
"I believe you have just uncovered another bit of information about yourself. You seem to be apt at keeping others from gleaning too much information from you."

The next few days passed in a similar manner, minus any awkward meetings in the corridors. Bit by bit, the young wizard made himself familiar with the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry again. Memories of the castle and its surroundings came back readily enough. He had made the makeshift room his permanent accommodation, since students might have to spend time in the hospital wing every now and then. A House Elf called Bimky was assigned to bring him food, clean clothes, and whatever else he needed. Minerva had enchanted the door handle so that the room only appeared when the young wizard laid his hand on the handle. For everyone else, it would be a broom cupboard. Whenever he walked up the staircase to his room and skipped the trick step, he briefly thought of the Muggle Studies teacher. She had seemed rather helpless for someone who had been at Hogwarts for at least a few months.  
After another week, he knew the corridors and the school grounds as well as he ever would. In his free time, he was reading text books for the seventh school year. He was almost disappointed that he had still not encountered anything that exceeded his knowledge. It was time for a harder challenge. He wanted to be able to hear and use his own name.  
"Alright..." Xanimus said when the young man had uttered his request the next day. "But first, let's try something else that will indicate whether you are ready to reassume your identity. Follow me, please." They went down a few flights of stairs, along a corridor and down some more stairs. When they turned into yet another corridor, there were no more windows, just flickering torches lighting the bare stone walls. We must be below ground level.  
When they rounded a corner, comprehension dawned on the young man. "We are in the dungeons," he said. The two men stopped walking.  
"Yes," Xanimus smiled, "you are right, of course."  
"I used to work here. No, actually, I... spent all my time here. I lived here." He felt a tingling sensation in his fingertips, but shook his hands impatiently to get rid of the feeling.  
"Do you want to go into your old classroom?" This question sent a surge of panic through the young wizard's stomach.  
"Won't there be students in there?"  
"No, the lessons that used to take place here have been moved to another part of the castle. The new teacher for this subject apparently found the dungeons too dark and, er, gloomy, I think the word was."  
The young wizard pondered this for a moment. Darkness was good. Darkness was when the world quieted down and people left you alone.  
Images drifted by before his inner eye. Things that had happened in this corridor. Things that had made him feel strong, superior, in control. But also... he could not think of the right word. Was heavy a feeling?  
"Do you want to go in?" The Healer's voice cut off his thoughts. The young wizard nodded.  
Xanimus approached a heavy wooden door, pulled a key out of his robes and put it in the lock. When he turned it, a "clack" echoed through the empty corridors. He pushed the door open.  
The young man stepped over the threshold with trembling breath and palms covered in cold sweat. Rows of benches and chairs greeted him. Below the cold, clammy smell of disuse, something familiar loomed. "Potions," he sighed. He let the feeling of familiarity wash over him. His breathing calmed down. In this room, he could not go wrong, nothing bad could happen to him in here. He slowly walked through the rows of benches toward the teacher's desk. Behind it stood a blackboard. He stood beside it and turned around, taking in a sight that he instantly recognized.  
There was a door behind him as well, a door that he knew led to his former office. He moved towards it but was halted by Xanimus' voice. "Not yet. We should stay in this room for now." The young wizard's gaze instead fell on a cupboard. When he opened it, he found a multitude of substances and objects in numberless boxes, vials and jars. Dried, powdered, or pickled potions ingredients. His ingredients. On a lower shelf, he discovered a number of cauldrons that were stacked helter-skelter. Brass, copper, iron, pewter, steel, gold and silver. He knelt down and started taking them out, setting them carefully on the ground beside him. They were dusty and wisps of spider webs spanned some of their openings. He wiped them away with a caressing hand, almost lovingly. He turned to look up at the Healer.  
"I'd like to clean them. Can we stay here for a while?"  
"For as long as you want. I believe there are cleaning supplies in a broom cupboard in the hall."  
When they had retrieved a number of cleaning cloths and a couple of bottles of Magical Metal Buff, the Healer went to sit at the back of the classroom, took a book out the folds of his white robes and started to read. The young man set to work.  
After he had polished the cauldrons until their sheen almost hurt his eyes, he turned his attention to the ingredients. Taking out a small vial filled with liquid that gave off a rosy glow, he muttered "Chizpurfle Blood". He turned the vial around and studied the label. He had correctly identified it and, what was more, could readily recall its properties and uses. After setting the vial down on the teacher's desk - No, my desk, he mentally corrected himself, he took out a medium-sized box from the cupboard. Trying not to look at its label, he took off the lid and discovered what he knew were dried scurvy grass leaves. The more of the jars, vials and boxes he opened or examined, the calmer and more at home he felt. It was like meeting old friends.  
Suddenly, he heard a rumbling sound that seemed to come from above and all around. He looked at Xanimus, disconcerted. The Healer seemed to have felt the young wizard's stare, for he looked up inquiringly.  
"What is that sound?" the young man asked.  
"It is lunchtime," the Healer chuckled, "Forgot the time, have you?"  
Indeed, the young wizard had been so absorbed by his undertaking that he had not even felt the growling of his stomach. He called for Bimky, his House Elf, and asked her to bring them lunch. After they had eaten, the young man went back to work. He now realized that the writing on the ingredients' labels must be his own handwriting. Memorizing the name on the jar he had just taken out of the cupboard - Puffer-fish Eyes, pickled - he went to the blackboard and wrote down those same words. The writing matched. All these labels had been written by himself. Some were starting to yellow, the letters growing faint, while others were still new. Fleeting images of his own hands working over a porcelain mortar or laying out plant parts on parchment paper passed before his inner eye.  
At this moment, a part of him truly became his own once more. Triumph and superiority flooded him as he laid his hands onto his desk and stood up. He looked at the Healer in the last row of seats.  
The other looked back at him for a moment, then purposefully stowed his book in his robes, got up and walked to the front of the room. He looked into the young wizard's eyes and said,  
"Welcome back... Severus Snape."

* * *

As always, thanks for reading! Don't forget to leave a fave or a review and follow the story :) next chapter will go up on Thursday


	7. Chapter 7: The Dark Lord - part 1

Severus... Snape... Snape... breathe... Snape... Severus... breathe along... Severus... with me... Snape... try... Snape... try to breathe... Severus... try to breathe... Snape... along with me.  
"Breathe along with me," Xanimus' voice echoed inside his head.  
He tried to inhale but his nose seemed to be constricted. He clasped the edge of his seat.  
"Breathe through your mouth," the Healer said.  
He opened his mouth and gasped like he was drowning.  
"- and out."  
He exhaled and immediately got scared that he would not be able to inhale again, so he took another great gulp of air.  
"Good," the Healer said. "Try to open your eyes, watch my breathing and mimic it."  
He forced himself to open his eyes and looked at Xanimus. The Healer's shape was blurred, but he inhaled so markedly, his whole front expanding, that the young wizard could still see it. Xanimus exhaled and let his shoulders drop and his chest sink. He repeated the operation. The young man's head cleared as he copied the breathing rhythm, and the world slowly came back into focus.  
Xanimus pulled up a chair, sat down and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.  
"How was that, what did you experience?"  
"You could have warned me.  
"You might have declined. You were ready, so I took the leap. What happened inside your head?"  
"Voices... saying my name."  
"What were they like?"  
"They were all sorts of voices, some sounded normal, but others sounded... threatening."  
"Did some sound friendly?"  
The young wizard hesitated. "I'm not sure."  
"Did any voice stand out to you in particular? Was any of them louder than the others or repeated your name more often?"  
"No."  
"Alright. Do you want to try again?"  
"What? No, why? Wasn't this enough?"  
"Do you remember the first time this happened? Your body reacted so severely that you were unconscious for several days. Now, a couple of weeks later, you stayed conscious and recovered fairly quickly. The more often we practice this, the easier it will get."  
The young wizard groaned, but agreed nonetheless.  
"Alright, look me in the eyes, I will help you through this. Try to stay focused on me.  
"Ready?  
"...Severus Snape."  
The voices were hissing, screaming, whispering his name. He screwed up his eyes, his breath came in short little gasps and got harder to draw every second.  
"Don't lose focus now, open your eyes and look at me," Xanimus almost shouted. "Come on, stay with me, open your eyes."  
His chest felt like it was in an iron grip. Breathing had become impossible. He frantically tried to suck in air and opened his eyes in panic. There was the blurred shape of the Healer's face, his mouth moving.  
"...at me, focus on my breathing. Good, come back to the reality around you. Try to mirror my breathing." Again, Xanimus did his exaggerated breathing demonstration, interjected with "Try to breathe along with me" and "Stay with me now."  
The young wizard managed to suck in a mouthful of air. On the next inhale, it was a little more. Gradually, his breathing deepened. He slumped back into his chair.  
The Healer summoned Bimky and asked her to bring some cooled pumpkin juice. She was back with the juice in an instant. Xanimus poured some into a goblet and handed it to the young wizard. Its cool, slightly sweet taste was a welcome refreshment.  
"One more time?" the Healer asked.  
"Are you out of your mind?"  
"The sooner you get used to this, the better. Come on, sit up and look at me. Try to keep your eyes open this time. Alright?... Severus Snape."  
Once again, the voices in his head started their cacophony, but now, he tried very hard to not shut his eyes.  
"Excellent, keep it going!" Xanimus said excitedly.  
The young man fixed his gaze on the other, doing his utmost not to lose control. He forced himself to keep breathing, pulling air into his lungs with something akin to violence. The voices receded much more quickly than before. With a shaking hand, he wiped cold sweat from his forehead.  
Xanimus said, "That was really good. You have a lot of self-control."  
"If you make me do it again, I will push you down the stairs."  
Xanimus laughed heartily at that.  
The next day, they worked in the Potions dungeon again. In the morning, the young wizard brewed a few simple potions, most of them by heart; he did not need instructions. After lunch, he practiced hearing his name. It turned out to be much easier than the day before, and, after two hours, he barely even flinched.  
"You're making great progress, more than I could have hoped for!" Xanimus said. "If you keep going like this, we can-"  
He was interrupted by loud, agitated voices approaching rapidly in the hallway. Before either of them could do anything, a booming knock made the door to the classroom vibrate. The young wizard looked around frantically, but could see nowhere to hide, except behind his steaming cauldron in which he had left a potion to simmer quietly. He was not willing to condescend to crouch under a desk, so he just stood there, bracing himself for what was to come. Xanimus was about to answer the door when it flew open and nearly knocked him to the ground. Minerva stood in the doorway, looking very forbidding. The young man wondered what on earth would have made the Headmistress knock the door down like that when he realized that there was someone else with her. A very short man in pinstriped robes adjusted his hat, then stepped over the threshold in an authoritative manner.  
"There he his!" he said, turning around to Minerva while pointing a grotesquely short finger at the young wizard behind his cauldron.  
"Yes, I can see that," Minerva said dryly.  
The small man marched towards the teacher's desk. He was wearing blue-rimmed spectacles with perfectly round glasses that made his eyes seem twice as large as they really were. He looked like one of the dead carps floating in the ingredients jars. The short man waved his wand, vanishing the potion bubbling in the cauldron and sweeping all equipment laid out on the table into an untidy pile on one side of the desk.  
The young wizard had no time to get angry, for the small man said authoritatively, "Sit down, will you?"  
The young wizard remained standing, tall and stiff; his head held high. "Who are you?" he demanded. The other rapidly said "Alfred Axton, Ministry of Magic, Administrative Registration Department. Are you the one claiming to be Severus Snape?" Minerva inhaled sharply, but whatever she had been afraid of did not happen. Astonished, she looked from the young wizard to the Healer and back.  
"I am not claiming anything," the young man said. Now, Axton finally lifted his head to gratify him with a look from those fish-like eyes. He sighed, saying "I am here to ascertain your identity, whether you are claiming it or not."  
"And how are you planning to do that, exactly?" This came from Minerva, who was still standing in the aisle between the students' work benches, her eyebrows raised and her arms crossed. Axton pressed his lips together and turned around to her. "I will interrogate the subject to find out who his contacts were in his... past life. Then I will call upon whoever I deem appropriate to confirm that he is who we think he is." He was about to turn back around, growing markedly impatient, but Minerva was not done.  
"I am a contact from his past life. As Headmistress of this school I would think I am appropriate to verify Professor- his identity."  
Axton gave a shrill little laugh. "Professor!" he scoffed. "This man is far, far away from being a teacher at this school again, trust me!" Minerva took a step toward the little man.  
"I am still the leading authority at this school and I will decide who is affiliated with it!"  
The young wizard had witnessed this exchange with growing displeasure.  
"I am right here," he said without raising his voice, but so sharply that the other two looked around to him.  
Minerva said, "Maybe you better cooperate with Mr. Axton... Severus," she added after a moment of hesitation. "But I demand to be on his list of witnesses." She shot the ministry man an annoyed glance.  
"Very well," Axton said smugly, sitting down and taking a piece of parchment and a quill from his briefcase. "So, who else do you recall from your past life that could recognize you?"  
There were indistinct faces floating around before Severus' mind's eye, but he could not attach names to any of them.  
"I'm waiting," Axton said. "Without anyone else with authority vouching for you, I cannot verify your identity, you know."  
"Will my authority suffice?" A deep voice asked. They all looked to the door. The voice belonged to a tall man in deep purple robes trimmed with a narrow ribbon of gold ornaments. Axton opened and closed his mouth a few times, making him look more like a fish than ever. When he finally managed to make a sound, he stammered, "Minister!" and jumped from his chair.  
The next one to speak was Severus. "Kingsley."  
Kingsley Shacklebolt smiled and inclined his head. Severus felt instantly reassured. He knew he had spent time with Kingsley, although he could not recall the details. But the man's calm authority, his sheer presence even, made him feel at ease. Kingsley walked toward Severus and put a hand onto his shoulder. Taking him in, he said, "It is a pleasure to see you again. One that I did not think would ever be possible. Yet, here you are." He turned to Axton and said, "Have the necessary paperwork on my desk first thing tomorrow." Axton nodded frantically, stuffed his quill and parchment into his briefcase and hurried out of the room. Meanwhile, Kingsley had taken over Axton's chair. He pondered Severus for a minute, then asked, "What happened to you? How did you manage to come back?"  
"I don't know. I woke up in the shack a few weeks ago-"  
"The Shrieking Shack?" Minerva interjected. She sat down at the desk too.  
"Yes, that was its name," Severus said thoughtfully. "I just woke up there, with nothing on me, no... clothes or wand. I managed to make my way out. Then I walked into the village, -"  
"Hogsmeade," Minerva prompted.  
"Hogsmeade. When I arrived, I just went into the first inn I could find."  
Kingsley's gaze was fixed on Severus' face. "Go on," he urged. Severus exchanged a quick glance with Minerva. She cleared her throat and picked up the story. "That inn happened to be the Hog's Head. Aberforth thought he recognized Severus, although he was not entirely sure. I didn't believe him, of course. In any case, I went down there as soon as I could, if only to calm down Aberforth. We went up to the room Severus was allegedly staying in. And to my great shock, before we could even knock on the door, the exact person Aberforth had claimed to host came toppling out of the room and fainted at our feet. I didn't want to believe it at first, but once he was awake, I could not deny it any longer myself. Severus had come back to life"  
"Back up a little, you fainted? Why?" Kingsley asked. Minerva looked at Severus expectantly.  
"I... was close to the door and heard someone say my name. This apparently caused some kind of seizure."  
"You seem to be fine with hearing your name now, though," Kingsley said.  
"Yes, I have been working with Healer Caedmon to come to terms with it." He nodded at Xanimus, who had not interfered in anything that had happened and had instead stayed at the back of the room. He took this cue to approach the minister and introduce himself.  
Kingsley enquired, "May I ask your patient a few more questions or should I leave him alone for today?" Xanimus looked at Severus and asked, "What do you think?"  
"I'd like to know more about my death. Maybe Kingsley's questions will help with this."  
"Hold on," Kingsley leaned forward, "you do not remember how you died?"  
Severus shook his head once, then stopped in the middle of the movement. "There was a sort of vision I had when I was at the Hog's Head," he said slowly. "A large mouth with huge fangs..."  
"The snake," Minerva whispered.  
Severus' field of vision shrank rapidly, the edges blurring. His breath started coming in ragged gasps. Not again, he thought, I am past this. With an enormous effort, he managed to keep Minerva's face in focus. He grasped the edge of the desk, forcing his breath in and out of his nose. All eyes were fixed on him. Xanimus gave him a look of encouragement, the other two stared, their eyes widened. _ In and out_, Severus thought, _in and out_. Finally, the blur disappeared from his vision and his breath flowed freely again.  
Xanimus explained, "When he regains important memories, his body shows a severe reaction, presumably trying to achieve unconsciousness to protect him from the memories. He has shown a remarkable ability to withstand this physical reaction in the last few days."  
"I'm not surprised to hear that," said Kingsley.  
Severus, however, was only half listening to them. "The snake," he said. "She killed me." He closed his eyes and tried to recall the vision of the snake, to remember anything around her. Slowly, a greenish face appeared in the back of his mind. It had red, reptile-like eyes and slits for nostrils. It belonged to a cloaked figure, tall and thin, that had stood in the darkness a few feet away from him when the snake had attacked. The figure had spoken in a calm, arrogant voice, although Severus could not remember what it had said. The person, if it was a person, smiled coldly; he was someone who knew he would always get what he wanted.  
Severus opened his eyes and looked at everyone in turn. "The Dark Lord," he finally uttered, "He needed me dead."  
Complete silence had fallen. No one dared to break it.  
"He is gone, isn't he," Severus said. Suddenly, something inside of him broke and fell away. "Thank goodness," he croaked before his lips drew away from his teeth. He quickly clasped his hands to his face. A sob escaped his throat. Only faintly conscious of the three people watching him, he let go of all control. Something needed out. His torso doubled over onto his legs and raw emotions forced their way through him, racking his body, making him weep uncontrollably. A cold fear that had held his heart in an iron grip was leaving his body, for good.

* * *

Thanks for reading :) I'd love it if you left a review or a fave! Next chapter will be up on Sunday.


	8. Chapter 8: The Dark Lord - part 2

He felt a cautious hand on his hunched back, warm and still and welcome. After a long time, his sobs finally died down. A leaden tiredness took hold of him. All he wanted was to sleep, he had to keep himself from curling up right there on the ground.  
"Let's get you to your room," Xanimus said. Scraping noises could be heard when everyone stood up from their chairs. It took Severus all his strength to get up and start walking. Kingsley turned back to look at him and said, "There is a lot for us to talk about. I'd like to meet again when you are ready."  
Severus nodded with half-closed eyes. After grasping his hand for a short moment, Kingsley left the room.  
"Will you be alright?" Minerva asked. He nodded again. All he wanted was to get to his bed.

He woke up to a room filled with daylight. He had slept like a stone for he knew not how long. For the first time since he could remember - he had a feeling that this included his past life as well - he was looking forward to starting his day, to getting up and doing something. He jumped out of bed and got dressed with a lightness and ease quite unknown to him. It felt as if he had swallowed an entire vial of Felix Felicis.  
"What time is it?" he asked when he entered the Potions classroom, where Xanimus sat in his usual spot in the last row. The Healer smiled and said, "almost lunchtime".  
Severus halted his movements. "Why didn't you wake me up? I didn't mean to keep you waiting for so long."  
"Don't worry, I have only been down here for about half an hour, I had expected you to sleep in. Why don't you sit down?" Xanimus offered. Severus pulled up a chair.  
The Healer said, "I would like to revisit that memory you had yesterday and dive deeper into it."  
Severus' happiness immediately evaporated. He stiffened. He had gone through that memory, put it behind him. Wasn't it time to move on to more pleasant things, his memories about Potions, for example? He had planned to brew a few more today to prove to himself how good he was at it. He deserved that after the day he'd had yesterday. Instead, Xanimus wanted to get right back to the hard work. Hadn't Severus earned a day off?  
Xanimus evidently didn't think so, for he asked, "Yesterday, you were very relieved to learn that the Dark Lord was dead. Do you know why you felt like this?"  
Severus exhaled. He couldn't do much but go along with it. He said, "Because he was waging war against wizardkind. He needed to be stopped."  
"When you think about the war, which colours come to your mind?"  
Severus stared at him, eyebrows raised in disbelief. What kind of a silly question was that?  
"When I just asked you this question," the Healer continued, "an answer must have involuntarily popped up in your brain. Just try to describe which colours you thought of just now."  
"I... pale green and... red."  
"What do they represent to you?"  
"Him," Severus said with a hollow voice. "The Dark Lord."  
"Did you meet him?"  
Severus laughed mirthlessly. "Yes, many times. And even when I was not with him, he was still foremost on my mind."  
"Do you remember how you felt when you were with him?"  
He thought hard, but all he could say was, "I don't think that I felt anything. It was just something I had to do, and I did it."  
"Do you remember why you had to do this?"  
"To end the war."  
Xanimus nodded pensively, then asked,  
"Were you ever afraid of the Dark Lord?"  
"No, not afraid. I told you, I did not really feel anything about it. I just needed to get things done."  
"Do you remember what those things were?"  
Severus screwed up his eyes in an effort to recall.  
Xanimus said, "Try to call the colours you talked about earlier before your mind's eye. It might help you remember."  
Severus closed his eyes. He saw the colours. They started to materialize into the Dark Lord's face. What was he, Severus, doing during the war? Why had he met the Dark Lord so often? Why hadn't he been afraid of him? The questions piled up in his brain and started to overwhelm him. Cold sweat began to pearl on his forehead. "I can't!" he groaned.  
"Which part of it do you find challenging?"  
"I don't know, everything!"  
"Just name one thing, anything."  
Severus sighed and rubbed his face. "I can't answer any of the questions. I don't know why I met the Dark Lord so often, or why I wasn't afraid of him, and how it all ties in with my relief at his death. I don't know!"  
"Were you on his side, did you sympathize with his goals?"  
"No!" Severus answered almost before Xanimus had finished his question.  
"Are you sure?"  
"Yes. I mean... I think so." In fact, there had been a time, long ago, when the Dark Lord had not been his enemy. When he had hoped to achieve something with the Dark Lord's help. But he knew, very certainly, that those times were long gone. That he had hated and resented him for many years after.  
Out loud, he said, "I hated him but I could not reveal my true feelings toward him. It was important that he thought I was loyal to him."  
"You were very relieved he was dead," Xanimus said.  
"Yes. They are all dead."  
"All? How do you mean?"  
Severus dove deep into his mind, speaking haltingly. "There was someone else to whom I owed loyalty. In his case, my loyalty was real. Although I often did not like it. I was caught in between those two, everything I did and said was because of their actions or according to their orders." He opened his eyes and frowned. "I was the pivoting point between these two opposing forces and could not move of my own accord. I was caught. A puppet in their powerplay." He stood up and started pacing the room. "I was not allowed to feel anything. Had I allowed myself any emotions, I would not have been the instrument they needed me to be. If I had _felt_ anything, I would have _despaired_. My life was nothing, NOTHING to them!"  
In an instant, he grabbed a chair and threw it across the room. He roared as he kicked another chair and threw a third one. As it clattered to the ground, his hand flew to his hip, but only grasped at fabric. He had no wand, no weapon. He cursed loudly, upending a table. Then another one. He was only vaguely conscious of the Healer standing in a corner of the room. He didn't care about it, either way. He sent a few more chairs flying, but his strength started to give out and he could feel his anger subside somewhat.  
Panting, he plopped down on one of the tables. He pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, "Sorry about that."  
"It's perfectly natural to be upset. Those feelings need to be expressed," Xanimus said. "I know it might not feel this way right now, but you are making great progress."  
"Progress!" Severus exclaimed. "I'm suspecting that the rest of my life was probably not all that wonderful, given how it ended! So, the more I find out, the surer I will know that my life was terrible? I felt happy this morning! Happy! I have never been happy before, and you just took it away in an instant!"  
"Look at it this way: The fact that you felt happy mere hours ago shows that you are capable of this feeling. I'm sorry that it could not last today, but we are still quite early in the process of regaining your memories. And understanding your past life will help you take control over this life. If you know where you went wrong last time, you'll know how to do it right this time."  
Severus merely scoffed at this, but did not answer back. He had regained a memory, yes. But had it been worth diving into the darkest times of his past? If those even _were_ the darkest times. But Severus couldn't imagine anything worse than that emotion he had just tapped into, that feeling of being trapped between opposing forces, of being entirely under the control of others.  
"Let's put the desks and chairs back. Putting the room in order might help you put your thoughts in order as well," Xanimus said. Together, they straightened out the classroom.  
"Is that all I was?" Severus asked after a while, "a puppet?"  
"I don't think that you actually were a puppet," Xanimus said thoughtfully as he sat down. "The word 'puppet' sounds like you did not know that you were being used. From what you just told me, it sounded like you were extremely aware of everyone's plans and their means to realize them. I'm also getting the idea that you needed to exert a tremendous amount of self-control. And the plans came to pass. The Dark Lord was destroyed and the war ended. Whatever it is you were doing, you succeeded."  
"Yes..." Severus was very weary all of a sudden. His day had only just started, but already he could not wait for it to end.  
"Did you have something in mind this morning that you wanted to do today?" Xanimus asked. Severus snorted derisively. The Healer went on, "I am not doing any of this to make your life harder, on the contrary. I do understand that you are upset. If you tell me what you would like to do for the rest of the day, I'm happy to oblige. Doing something you enjoy will help to make you feel better."  
"When I woke up this morning, I thought I wold like to go into my office," Severus said, but without enthusiasm.  
"Good idea," Xanimus said. He got up, walked to the door beside the blackboard and unlocked it.  
Hesitatingly, Severus followed him. He paused, his look cast down, before he stepped over the threshold. He lifted his head. There it all was. The shelves lining the walls, the books, and all the jars with preserved magical creatures, plants and fungi - he instantly felt at home again. Seeing all of it undisturbed, waiting for him, did lift Severus' spirits, as he grudgingly had to admit.  
When they ventured further, into his former private quarters, Severus was surprised to be greeted by bare rooms. _Then again, I was dead_. But there was no pang, no anxious question as to where his personal belongings were. He was entirely satisfied with what he had found in the Potions classroom and his office.  
Just like he had planned in the morning, he started working on a potion. While the day had been tainted by his unpleasant recollection, working in his office invited a feeling of calm to slide in underneath his weariness.

That evening, after he had returned to his room, there was a soft knock on his door. His heart skipped a beat. Whoever was out there knocked again, and said "Severus? It's Minerva."  
He exhaled, relieved, but still wondering what she could want. He went to open the door and invited her in. After she had sat down in the only chair - Severus contented himself with sitting on his bed - she looked at him, frowning.  
"Severus..." she started, a slight crease between her brows, "now that the Minister of Magic himself has confirmed your identity-"  
"Has he? He told you?" he interrupted.  
"Yes, and part of why I'm here is to convey this message. However... rumour has gotten out that you are back."  
"That Muggle Studies teacher!" Severus snarled  
"You cannot blame her; she did not know that she wasn't supposed to talk about you. She didn't even know who you were, she seemed to think you were some kind of businessman."  
He groaned.  
"Be that as it may, she described you sufficiently well for some of our teachers to get suspicious. I wanted to stop the rumour mill before it started spinning too fast, so I told them what happened to you."  
"You could have lied."  
"That is not how I run this school. And this lie would have come out quickly enough. You need to reveal yourself to the other teachers sooner rather than later." She looked at him expectantly.  
He felt his heartbeat in his throat. When he found his courage to speak, he asked, "They want to see me?"  
"Yes," Minerva said. "Besides, to house you, we need to give you an official affiliation with this school. It is only fair that all staff know about the goings-on inside the castle. Also, I would like to keep them from passing on the rumour to their students."  
"When will I meet them?"  
"The sooner the better. I'd suggest you come to my office in half an hour," Minerva got up. "I will assemble the staff."

* * *

Thanks so much for reading again! Leave a fave or a review if you enjoyed this chapter and don't forget to subscribe. As always, next chapter will be up on Thursday.


	9. Chapter 9: The Seer's Gift - part 1

Minerva was waiting for him by the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to her office.  
"There's something you should know before meeting the staff," she said. "We needed to find a new Potions master – well, mistress – after Horace Slughorn retired for good after the war. She might strike you as a little... unconventional. Please try to be civil."  
Bemused, he followed her up the spiral staircase. With a heart pounding so fiercely he felt his entire body tremble in its rhythm, he stepped into the Headmistress' office. When he entered, some people gasped and one of them exclaimed, "Blimey!" in a gruff voice that seemed familiar. Others acted like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Severus cautiously approached the group of people. He was too nervous to look at any of their faces, so he just let his eyes dart around from one pair of feet to the other.  
One person had jumped out of their chair and was approaching him. The man was so short that his face was just in Severus' line of sight, despite his downcast look. The man offered him his hand to shake.  
"I don't know if you remember me, I'm—"  
"Filius Flitwick," Severus said with a small smile.  
"Yes! You do remember!" the little man said excitedly. "Glad to have you back, truly."  
Someone else had gotten up. Despite himself, Severus looked up. For while Professor Flitwick was no taller standing up than sitting down, this person seemed to fill half the office. The man gingerly stepped forward, apparently trying to avoid knocking down any furniture or people. He held out a large hand and, addressing Severus' knees, said, "Di'n't think I'd ever say this, but... I'm glad to see you again, Professor Snape." The large man looked him in the eyes only for a split second before turning back. That was when Severus finally remembered his name.  
"Hagrid," he said. "You were at the Hog's Head the morning after I arrived there."  
"Yeah," Hagrid grumbled. "Ab told me about you. Thought 'e'd gone mad, I did!"  
The next to greet him was Professor Sprout, who he remembered immediately. They had worked together every now and then, since she, as the Herbology teacher, was able to grow some of the ingredients Severus had needed. She took his hand in both of hers and said quietly, "I'm very glad to see you again, Severus."  
The next teacher had already gotten out of her chair and slowly, cautiously sidled towards him as if she expected him to jump at her like a ferocious animal. She gaped at his face through her large spectacles, her eyes grotesquely magnified. Severus felt resistance welling up in him. Her many bracelets jangled when she lifted her hand and waved it around as if she was removing invisible spiderwebs from around his head. He leaned backwards a little. "The darkness that surrounded you has passed," she whispered dramatically. "I knew this day would come." She stared into his eyes.  
"Hello, Sybil," he said as he took a step back and hoped that the Divinations teacher was done with her little show. She kept gaping at him for another moment, then turned around rather abruptly and walked back to her chair, tossing one of her silk shawls back over her shoulder. One of the other teachers giggled. Severus looked for the source of the laughter and saw a young woman with her hand before her mouth and glee in her eyes. "Sorry!" she said and waved her hand in front of her mouth as if to shoo away the laughter. "We haven't met, I believe," she said as she got up and walked towards him elegantly, a little swerve in her hips. Her tightly-cut robes outlined her female silhouette. She stretched out a slender arm, her hand inclined at the wrist as if she expected him to kiss it. He awkwardly plucked the hand from its high position to shake it. "Severus Snape," he said.  
"Oh, what a beautiful name!" she trilled in a high-pitched, girlish voice. "My name is Claire Blanchard. I'm not French, though!" She erupted into loud, tinkling laughter, as if she had just made the most hilarious joke. She was still holding his hand. Severus was afraid to ask what she was teaching. But he did not need to ask, for she leaned towards him and murmured conspiratorially, "I teach Potions. Guess you and I will see a lot of each other." Whereupon she threw her head back laughing again and finally released his hand. Horrified, Severus looked at her retreating back.  
While Professor Blanchard sat down, winking at him, he turned to the person next to her. It was the Muggle Studies teacher who had gotten stuck in the trick step. She was sitting back in her chair nonchalantly, her arms crossed. When she realized that it was her turn, she sat up, looking somewhat confused, and said, "Mette Vestergaard. We already met?" She seemed unsure whether she should get up.  
"Yes, I remember." he said. "I'm Severus Snape. I used to be a teacher here."  
"So I've heard," she said with a crooked smile. He creased his brow. She gave him the impression that she was making fun of him. He had not much patience for such behaviour.  
After her, a few more people came forward, some of them he remembered, others had to introduce themselves.  
And then, it was over. He had faced the people who knew him from his past life, and no one had yelled at him or otherwise expressed disgust. Some had even seemed downright touched and genuinely happy to see him again. Whatever he had done before he died seemed to have had a positive impact.  
Minerva rose from her chair and said, "Thank you all for being here tonight. Before I dismiss you I would like to—"  
"Wait, I have a question!" Professor Blanchard was raising her hand high in the air, shaking it, like an eager schoolgirl. Minerva pressed her lips together briefly and asked, "What is it, Claire?" in a clipped voice. Professor Blanchard looked at Severus with wide eyes and asked, sounding rather thrilled, "How did you do it? How did you come back to life?"  
That question again. He was at a loss about how to react. However, he did not need to, for someone else said, "What makes you think he did it on purpose?" Severus' eyes darted to the speaker, Professor Vestergaard. She was leaning forward, frowning at the Potions mistress. The latter kept looking at Severus and said, "Oh, come on, you can tell us! I'm sure it's a thrilling tale!" She waved her wand and a chair materialized itself in the middle of the room. She nodded at it invitingly, then looked back at him and said, "Go on then!"  
"Claire, that's quite enough!" Minerva sounded irritated. But Professor Blanchard would not admit defeat so quickly.  
"Oh, come on, please!" She was actually pouting at Minerva. Severus could hardly believe his eyes. Hagrid was shifting in his seat uncomfortably and cleared his throat. Professor Sinistra seemed to have found something very fascinating on the back of her hand and Professor Flitwick gave an embarrassed little laugh. Doe-eyed, Professor Blanchard turned to the rest of the group and said, "Or we could all come up with a hypothesis on how he did it, and then he can tell us who guessed it right!"  
Severus' disbelief had turned into annoyance. "I did not do anything." He hissed. "And how exactly are you hoping to come up with _hypotheses_ about my return?"  
"Why, we can all just take our best guess!"  
"But those are not hypotheses, those are guesses!" Professor Vestergaard piped up.  
"Oh, same difference," said Professor Blanchard and let one of her tinkling laughs escape her throat. Severus gritted his teeth, a snide remark already at the tip of his tongue, when Professor Vestergaard weighed in again. She seemed to get calmer the more outrageously Professor Blanchard behaved.  
"No, it's not 'same difference'," she said. "A hypothesis is something that can be tested by experimentation and thereby verified or falsified. A 'guess' is just that. A guess. And I hardly believe we can come up with tests to see how one would go about coming back to life after being properly dead for eighteen months. Unless you want to volunteer?" That last bit she said rather sweetly.  
Severus' anger vanished. He looked at Professor Vestergaard in surprise. Here was someone who seemed to be acquainted with the art of reason and logic – and sarcasm.  
"Be that as it may," Minerva interjected before Claire Blanchard could make any more suggestions, "I would like to ask all of you not to discuss Severus with any of your students." Her eyes lingered on Professor Blanchard. "And please, do abstain from making up any stories as to the How and Why of his return. We do not presently know what exactly happened to him. Should any such information come to light, I will share it with you at the appropriate time. Now please return to your quarters, it has gotten rather late."  
As they filed out of the office, there seemed to be a little commotion behind Severus. He turned around to find Claire Blanchard's face inches from his shoulder. He jumped. "You didn't mind, did you?" she chirped, "when I asked those questions? It's just so fascinating!" She had wrestled her way through the other teachers so she could walk next to him. He felt her gaze burn into his cheek as she stared at his profile. He desperately wanted to get away from this intrusive woman. In fact, he started to be a little suspicious of all these questions. He made a non-committal noise and sped up a little to shake her off.  
"Oh, you're upset!" came the relentless voice from behind. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to ruffle you! I'm just so interested in your unique story!"  
_Does she have no dignity, shouting about like that?_ He ignored her for the rest of the journey down the spiral staircase and, once out of it, walked as fast as he could without flat-out running. The chirping voice followed him for a while, but finally vanished after having trilled "Good ni-ight!" from far away.  
"Makes you wonder how she got the job," someone behind him said. His head snapped around; he had not expected anyone to have kept up with him. "I walk naturally fast," Professor Vestergaard said with an apologetic shrug. "Sooo... not a businessman, then."  
"Excuse me?"  
"Oh, because the other day, the man who was with you said you were here on business."  
Severus felt heat rise in his face. "He did not think it wise to reveal my identity before some stranger, given the circumstances," he said rather sharply.  
Professor Vestergaard shot him a sideways glance. "I'm sorry, I meant no harm. No need to snap at me."  
Severus tried to think of something to say to appease her while holding his ground, but they had arrived at the stairs leading to the main doors of the castle and she said, "Well, that's my stop. See you!" and walked off at a brisk pace. Severus looked after her, thinking that maybe his tone had not been entirely appropriate. He made a mental note to try and be nice to her next time he saw her.

He got his chance a few days later, when he was walking back upstairs from the dungeons in the evening. Xanimus had heeded his request to go easy on him. For a few days now, Severus had re-acquainted himself with the jars in his office and had brewed a number of advanced potions. He had also found a large number of journals detailing the making of hundreds of potions, neatly written down and catalogued in his own handwriting.  
He was in good spirits when he returned to his room that night. Walking along the ground-floor corridor, he heard rapid footsteps descending a staircase to his right. He retreated into a shadowy corner behind a column to avoid whoever was coming down the stairs.

* * *

Thanks for reading, my friends! If you liked it, I'd love it if you left a fave or review. Also, subscribe so you don't miss the next chapter!


	10. Chapter 10: The Seer's Gift - part 2

A person in Muggle clothes came walking along the passage, huffing and puffing under a load of books.  
He jogged up to Professor Vestergaard and asked, "Do you need help with these?" The stack of books tottered and Severus quickly caught one or two that toppled off. Professor Vestergaard's eyes peeked over the stack. "Yeah, thanks," she panted. When he took half of the books off her arms, he caught a glimpse of some of the titles. "These are all Potions books," he said, "and from the Restricted Section of the library, if I'm not mistaken."  
"Yes..." she said guardedly, eyeing him with a frown. "is that okay?"  
"Of course, you are perfectly within your rights as a teacher." He hesitated, then said, "Are you trying to get them out of Professor Blanchard's reach for some reason?"  
She laughed, "No, they are for me, actually."  
"I was under the impression that you teach Muggle Studies."  
"That's true, yes... there's one potion that I'm interested in, though."  
Severus pricked his ears. Maybe he could tell her straight away what she was trying to research.  
"Which potion would that be?"  
She shot him a look.  
"-If I may ask," he added, more timidly.  
She sighed. "Are you going to lecture me about how I'm going about it all wrong?"  
"No... I simply thought you might benefit from my expertise."  
"Alright, I'll tell you at my office."  
They kept walking until they arrived at a door in a corridor not too far from the Great Hall. Professor Vestergaard awkwardly balanced the books on one arm while she turned a key in the lock and pushed the door open. They stepped into an office that looked very unlike most teachers' offices at Hogwarts. There were no magical objects, no ancient spell tomes, not even moving photographs. The only decoration was a poster with a few rather convoluted words on it that Severus managed to decipher saying "Cradle of Filth". He stared at it, frowning. Was that meant as a humorous description of this office? It was a little messy, granted, but not so horrible that one would call it "filthy". Professor Vestergaard noticed him staring at it, for she said, "Oh, they're a band." She smiled crookedly. Severus set the stack of books down on her desk.  
"Sooo..." she said, bouncing on her toes, "Do you want some tea? Do the English drink tea in the evening? Can you still sleep then?"  
"No tea, thank you."  
She gestured for him to sit at her desk, then took a stack of paper from a stool and sat down on it.  
"You seem very dedicated to the Muggle lifestyle," he said, looking around her office.  
"Yeah, well, I'm a Squib. I have always been living like a Muggle, so..." She looked down briefly, then back at him.  
"Oh," was all that Severus managed to say. Being a Squib was not something he thought anyone should admit so freely. But then again, it was rather obvious. "Didn't your parents do magic at home then?" he asked.  
"Erm..." she let out a little, humourless laugh. "They are also Squibs."  
"But then... aren't you simply a Muggle?" Would Minerva let a Muggle into Hogwarts?  
"Not technically, no. Both my mother and father are the first Squibs in their families. They met at a self-help group for Squibs. They didn't think any wizard would want them, so they settled for each other. And I am the happy result of that marriage," she said with mock delight. "The three of us are still registered as wizards by the Norwegian Ministry of Magic, but if I ever have children and they are Squibs too, they will not be registered anymore. You are probably looking at the Vestergaard family's last member of the wizarding community." She smiled that half-smile again.  
"I'm sorry to hear that," was all that Severus could manage to think of.  
"No reason to feel sorry," Vestergaard laughed. "Ok, now I told you my life story when you didn't even ask for it. Sorry." She chuckled, then abruptly changed the subject by exclaiming, "Potions!" Severus nodded once, then asked, "Which one are you looking for?"  
"It's called 'The Seer's Gift'."  
Severus's frowned. He had heard of that potion, but had never thought it necessary to brew it himself, or teach it. Seeing, he thought, was mostly very inaccurate, therefore silly and potentially dangerous. Also, he really just did not want anything to do with it, period. He said derisively, "What do want that for?"  
"I don't actually want this potion. I mean, from what I understand, it gives one the gift of Seeing or at least enhances one's ability for it for a short while. But I don't want that, I want the... reverse version of it? Something that makes someone who is a Seer... well, not See, essentially." She looked at him with a pained look on her face.  
"You want to take away someone's ability to foresee the future?"  
"Something like that, yeah."  
He mulled this information over in his mind. What was Professor Vestergaard up to? As much as he despised Seers, this sounded like she might want to harm someone. He asked, "Does the person whose gift you mean to take away know what you are doing?"  
Her eyes widened in surprise. "Yes, of course!" she said. "No, I would never do something like that if the other person didn't want me to!"  
"So someone... asked you to research this potion?"  
"Yes, since they knew I was coming here and Hogwarts is known for its great wizarding library, they thought it would be a good opportunity for me to do some digging. But it's actually really tough, because I just can't find anything about a potion like that. So, I thought I would start with the Seer's Gift, look at its ingredients and then try to find their counterparts or antidotes or whatever and go from there, but..." she halted and shook her head. Her voice became quiet. "I just don't know the first thing about Potions. It was ridiculous to think I could do this."  
_I might be able to do it_, Severus thought. Should he offer his help? Then again, he was completely caught up in his own troubles right now. Even if he'd had time to recover these past few days, Xanimus would surely have something challenging in store for him soon. And it was not simply a complicated potion she was after. She was trying to develop a completely new recipe. No, he simply could not spare the time or energy to help a Squib on some obscure mission that she was so clearly ill-equipped for.  
"I'm afraid your efforts are quite futile," he said. "Only an extremely skilled Potions master can develop a potion like that. And even so, it likely requires ingredients that are too rare to obtain. If it was merely a somewhat complicated, but existing recipe, I could help you, but a new potion..." He shook his head.  
She sighed, frowning and hanging her shoulders. For a split-second, Severus felt guilty. But no, his reasoning was sound. What he had said was true, it was very difficult to invent a potion. And he really did not have the time right now. He got up from his chair and said, "Good night." She kept staring at the floor and did not answer.

During the next days, he kept working in the old Potions classroom with Xanimus. They were recovering more details about Severus' work life at Hogwarts. The Healer urged him to stay on safe grounds and only dive into mundane, everyday memories. He insisted that the emotionally unsettling parts of his life that they had recovered were enough for the time being and that venturing even deeper might be dangerous at this time. To his own surprise, however, Severus started to long for the more dangerous memories again. The Healer's obsession with safety was starting to make him weary.  
In the evenings, after the Healer had left, Severus stayed in the classroom to brew potions and go through his extensive collection of journals. Every now and then, the scene in Professor Vestergaard's office imposed itself on his mind. Staying late in the dungeons distracted him from his doubts about his decision not to help her and eliminated all possibilities of running into her.  
One day, a letter lay on his breakfast tray. When he opened it, he saw that it was signed by the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt himself. The letter went

_Dear Severus,  
I very much enjoyed seeing you again, despite the circumstances of our last meeting. I hope we will have more time to talk soon. Today, however, I am writing you on official business:  
You are summoned to appear for a hearing before a Ministry of Magic council. Given your unique situation, the Ministry does not think it appropriate for you to be subjected to the public. Therefore, the hearing will take place on Wednesday, the 8th of December at 11:00 at the Headmistress' office at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Subject of the hearing is your request to be granted permission to carry a wand.  
This is a formality, Severus, as I am sure we will be able to grant that permission. I set it to take place at Hogwarts to eliminate any danger of you being spotted by a member of the public. Unfortunately, I will not be able to attend your hearing, but Minerva will be there and I will send Axton with very clear instructions.  
I am hoping to hear from you soon and am  
Sincerely Yours  
Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic_

Severus' heart leapt. His work brewing potions had been somewhat hindered by his lack of a wand, as some of them required doing magic. He wondered whether Minerva had put in this request for him, as he himself had never said anything about a wand to Kingsley. In fact, after Minerva's stern refusal in the hospital wing, he had not dared to bring it up again. The letter had rekindled his enthusiasm. Luckily, the hearing was only a few days away.

When he arrived at the dungeons half an hour later, he asked Xanimus whether they could work on his wand-related memories. He was excited to finally have a reason to recover substantial memories. To Severus' exasperation, the Healer was very reluctant.  
"From what I have gathered, you were an extremely skilled wizard who developed a lot of his own magic. I am afraid that if we revisit your wandwork, we will inevitably stumble upon very personal memories that I don't think you are ready for just yet."  
Severus said frustratedly, "last week you said that I was making great progress and that I was very good at withstanding the effects the memories had on me. Why are you trying to hold me back now?"  
"We were going at a dangerously fast pace then. I would like to slow it down a little and strengthen you more before we go deeper again."  
"If it was so dangerous, why did you not slow me down before?"  
"Some things that happened were out of my control. Other things I let happen to start the process. Now we're in the middle of it, the process can be slower. There won't be a bang every day."  
Severus glowered at the Healer, not at all satisfied with his explanations. There hadn't been a 'bang' in quite a number of days.  
"Tell you what," Xanimus said in an appeasing voice, "why don't we try some basic spells? You can use my wand; it usually works reasonably well for other people. That way, you have some spells you can try when you buy yours."  
It was far from what Severus had had in mind, but probably better than nothing. He felt rather silly levitating chairs and locking and unlocking the door by magic. He only started to enjoy himself when Xanimus let him use some harmless curses on him, such as Petrificus Totalus. It was with a grim satisfaction that he saw the Healer's rigid body crash to the ground.

Those uneventful days left Severus feeling restless, trapped and, once again, entirely under the control of others. Under these circumstances, the hearing was a more than welcome distraction. At a quarter to eleven on Thursday, he made his way to the Headmistress' office. When he arrived at the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the spiral staircase, he realized that he did not know how to gain admittance. He stared blankly at the gargoyle, trying to come up with a way to make his presence known to Minerva, who was surely in her office, when he heard voices behind him. Axton came waddling towards him, followed by a young woman with long black hair. She was replying to something Axton had said, but stopped dead in her tracks a few feet away from the gargoyle. She stared at Severus.  
"Come on, Spinnet, what are you waiting for?" Axton asked, turning back to look at her. After a moment, comprehension dawned on his face and he asked, looking back and forth between the young woman and Severus, "I suppose you know each other?" The woman named Spinnet nodded very slightly, looking cautiously at Severus, as if afraid that he would attack if she made any sudden movements. He, however, was caught up in trying to remember her full name. Her face seemed vaguely familiar.  
"I'm afraid I don't remember you," he eventually said to her. Strangely, this seemed a relief to her, as she exhaled and visibly relaxed. She stepped forward and stretched out her right hand. When he shook it, she said, "Alicia Spinnet, sir. I am in training at the Ministry." The name rang a bell.  
He had no time to dwell on it, though, for at that moment, the stone gargoyle hopped to life, revealing the spiral staircase leading up to the Headmistress' office. As they ascended, running footsteps could be heard in the hall. Xanimus leapt through the entrance just before it sealed itself. Severus was surprised to see him and gave him a quizzical look. The Healer, however, only smiled.  
The two young men seated themselves in chairs that stood in a row in front of Minerva's desk. Severus was not pleased to see Madam Pomfrey already sitting in one of those chairs. To Severus' surprise, the Headmistress got up from behind her desk and joined them, while Axton took her place. The little man gave them all a look with his engorged fish eyes and started talking.


	11. Chapter 11: Master the Wand - part 1

„The Ministry of Magic has summoned you to assess the character and personality of Severus Tobias Kalovan Snape and therefore his eligibility to carry a wand—"  
Severus interjected, "Assess my character and personality? Kingsley did not say that in his letter!"  
"I'm afraid even the Minister of Magic cannot forgo our laws," Axton said, his voice ripe with satisfaction.  
The only three people who Severus had been in close contact with since his return were here. This was not necessarily a good thing. To Madam Pomfrey, he had been rather abrasive to the point where he had enjoyed vexing her. He had yelled at Xanimus, questioned his professional expertise and thrown furniture, not quite at him, but in his general direction. The only person he had not antagonized lately was Minerva, although Severus felt sure that she would not be overly lenient, either.  
"Poppy Pomfrey," Axton started. "You are the nurse at this school, is that correct?"  
"Yes," Madam Pomfrey answered.  
"Which impression did you get from Mr. Snape when he first arrived here?"  
Madam Pomfrey pressed her lips together and shot Severus a glance, then began, "At first, he was unconscious. When he awoke, he seemed very disoriented and confused, not only as to where, but also who he was. However, after a short while in the hospital wing, he seemed to regain a certain sense of self.  
"Quickly after that, he gave me the strong impression that he considered himself superior to me and that I was there simply to serve him. And while he showed very severe physical and emotional reactions to hearing only his _name_" – she stressed the last word – "he categorically refused proper treatment for a while. Minerva, that is, Professor McGonagall, and I had to spend considerable effort persuading him before he agreed to see a Healer."  
She ended her narration and looked at Axton. Axton in turn goggled at Severus with raised eyebrows. Severus' heart was pounding, this was going horribly. The worst thing was that Madam Pomfrey had a point. Looking back at his behaviour towards her, he felt embarrassed, ashamed even.  
"Could Mr. Snape have faked his initial state of confusion?" Axton asked.  
Severus started forward, ready to give Axton a piece of his mind, but Xanimus stepped on his foot, hard. Axton, however, had already caught a glimpse of Severus' enraged expression and was scribbling something on the parchment in front of him.  
"I think that's unlikely," Madam Pomfrey answered Axton's question.  
"Are you quite sure?"  
"Yes."  
The Ministry wizard now addressed Minerva. "Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is that correct?"  
"Yes," Minerva said impatiently.  
"Could you give me your impression of Mr. Snape, please?"  
She, too, looked at Severus before she started to speak, although she seemed not quite as vindictive as Madam Pomfrey. "I can confirm that Severus, after waking up in the Hospital Wing, did not know who or where he was, or indeed any of the circumstances that brought about his situation.  
"A few days after he had woken up, he asked to be brought textbooks to regain his knowledge for magic. From what I could see, he made astounding progress, covering the syllabus of an entire schoolyear in a matter of days."  
"Yes, yes," Axton said, "what about his refusal to accept treatment?"  
"If you would allow me to finish my statement, I will get to it," Minerva said. "As Madam Pomfrey already said, Severus showed strong adverse reactions to things that reminded him of his past life. The first time he heard his name, he lost consciousness and did not recover for several days. I believe that it was fear of those extremely distressing side effects that made him refuse treatment at first. When I talked to him about the necessity of the treatment, he soon agreed."  
Severus was surprised to hear Minerva speak about him in this amiable manner.  
"Is that all?" Axton asked curtly.  
"Yes," Minerva said.  
Axton quickly turned his attention to the Healer. "Xanimus Belafan Caedmon, Healer at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries in London, is that correct?" The Healer nodded. "Please tell me what you have found out about Mr. Snape's character.  
"I have started working with Severus about a month ago. Our primary goal is to regain knowledge of his past life, but doing so safely. He has made rapid progress and managed to remember some key events in his past life."  
"And how did he react to those memories?" Axton leaned forward, his huge eyes fixed on the Healer.  
"As expected," Xanimus said, "his reactions were strong at first, both physically and emotionally. However, he has shown a remarkable ability to control his emotions. His reaction to hearing his name, for instance, had disappeared within a day of rigorous training."  
Axton clenched his jaw for a second, then leaned back in the Headmistress' chair. Severus hardly dared to breathe. _Remarkable ability to control his emotions_. With a pang, he thought back to when he was throwing chairs across the room. He just hoped that Axton did not pick up on how red his face had become.  
"Very well," Axton said, his superior manner all but gone. "Would any of you three like to add something?" All shook their heads. While stuffing his papers back in his briefcase, Axton said, turning to Severus, "The Ministry will let you know what they decide in due course. Come on, Spinnet."  
"Wait a moment," Minerva said, "Does Severus not get a chance to speak for himself?"  
"I do not see how that would be informative," Axton huffed. He urged Alicia on and together, they hurried from the office. The remaining four people got up from their chairs. Minerva said with raised eyebrows, "Well, that was that, I suppose. Thank you all for coming here."  
Severus hesitated a moment, then looked at Minerva and said, "Thank you for... what you said."  
"There's nothing you need to thank me for, I just told him my impression of you." The tiniest smile appeared on her face. "Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do."  
When they had reached the bottom of the staircase, Madam Pomfrey gave Severus one last disapproving look and said "I must be going," then hurried off.  
Severus turned to Xanimus. "Why did you not tell him I lost my temper several times?"  
"Because you kept your temper on more occasions, and on occasions where losing it would have been all too natural."  
Severus blinked at him.  
"Well, I guess you will be getting a wand soon," the Healer said, winking.  
"I will wait for the official letter from the Ministry before I start thinking about that," Severus said. In truth, the Healer's words had made his stomach flutter, but he would not allow himself to get excited before the fact.

He decided to have lunch in his room after this morning's excitements and so made his way through less-used passages of the castle, when he heard a voice ring out with laughter. He peeked around the next corner, and saw Professors Blanchard and Vestergaard. The latter looked like she did not want to be there.  
Professor Blanchard was locking a classroom with a flourish of her wand, then turned to Professor Vestergaard and said, "But only if they have all three of them, I can't walk around wearing the same shade every day!" Vestergaard gave a forced little laugh. "I'll pay you back when you got them, okay?" Blanchard trilled. Then she took Vestergaard's face in her hands, squeezed her cheeks and said in a babyish voice "Oh, aren't you just the sweetest!" Then she walked off, away from where Severus stood, her hips swaying.  
Vestergaard suddenly behaved very oddly. She was grasping the front of her shirt with both hands and pulled on it as if to rip it off her body. She shook her head frantically, her face contorted with a grimace of utmost fright. She seemed to have lost control over her limbs, for she suddenly sat on the ground and could apparently not get up. It might have seemed funny if not for the look on her face. Severus thought he recognized the signs and hurried up to her.  
"Professor Vestergaard?" he called as he hunched down beside her, "Can you hear me?" She turned her face up at him. She was inhaling rapidly but never really seemed to exhale. Severus, who had planned to tell her to breathe, realized that something else needed to be done here. He wanted to call for help, but didn't dare attract attention to himself.  
"Bag..." Vestergaard wheezed, "paper...bag." Severus frantically looked around, at a loss about where to procure a paper bag. He did not have a wand to conjure one. But he had a bag in his room. It was much closer than the Hospital Wing, at any rate.  
"Can you walk?" he asked. She made a feeble attempt at getting up, but her arms and legs would not obey her. Severus threaded his right arm underneath her left, which he laid around his own shoulder. Grabbing her tight around her back, he pulled her up and half dragged, half carried her to his room. When they finally arrived, he kicked the door open and released Vestergaard onto his bed. He ripped open his drawers and threw out whatever was in there until he found a paper bag with several quills in it. He tipped them onto the floor and handed the bag to her. She put its opening over her mouth and nose. It rustled as she breathed into it. Eventually, she seemed to calm down.  
"Can you put my legs up?" she asked, speaking into the bag. Severus rolled up his comforter and put it under her calves. "The pillow, too," she said. He carefully extracted it from under her head and put it underneath her legs as well. Her breathing had become calm and steady again.  
"Do you need to go to the Hospital Wing?" he asked.  
"No... I mean, if I can stay here for a moment, I'll be good to go again in ten minutes. If that's alright with you?"  
Severus nodded. It was strange how she simply brushed off what had happened, as if she was used to it. And what _had_ happened? All he had seen was Blanchard squeezing her face. While that had been condescending, it did not explain Vestergaard's collapse. Unless...  
"It's for you, isn't it? The potion?"  
Her head snapped round to him. She screwed up her eyes. "Too early for sudden movements," she mumbled, then said, "Yes. It was a pretty transparent lie, anyway. 'Just asking for a friend'," she sing-songed in a mocking voice.  
Severus thought for a moment, putting the pieces together.  
"So, you... see people's future when they touch you? And it's involuntary?"  
"I cannot control it, that part is true. But I don't see their future. What happens is, I feel the emotions they experienced during the worst moment of their life. It happens when I touch them with both my hands or they touch me with both of theirs. And not just fingers, either. The palms have to make contact with bare skin."  
"And you want to use the potion to stop experiencing this. Does it happen that often?"  
"Well, not in general. But, you know, I'd like to have a normal relationship with someone at some point. Most people, myself included, expect quite a fair amount of touching when things get romantic," she said dryly. Severus felt his face grow hot. He quickly looked down at the floor.  
"It has messed up previous relationships in more than one way," she sighed and gingerly sat up on his bed. "And it's just not the same with gloves on. I want to feel the person I'm with."  
Severus frowned. "So, the only reason you want to get rid of this gift is because you want to be able to touch people?"  
"Yes? Touching is a very important part of human relationships. And not just between lovers, mind you." She looked at him quizzically. "You disagree?"  
"No, it's just..." Touching others had never been a part of his life, he knew that quite certainly. Although, when he thought about it, she was right. People touched each other all the time. Other people, that is. Why did this concept feel so foreign to him?  
When he had not spoken for a little while, Vestergaard quickly said, "It's alright, you don't need to justify yourself. I shouldn't have asked. By the way, did you call me 'Professor Vestergaard' earlier? I thought all teachers addressed each other by their first names." Her eyes twinkled. "It's Mette," she said with a crooked smile.  
"Yes," Severus said lamely, "Severus."  
"I know." She chuckled, but not unkindly. "Thank you for letting me recover here. I have to leave, I still need to eat and then I have a class." While she was gathering her things, Severus could not help but feel a little bad for her. After all, her only magical power was a gift that gave her considerable discomfort and that she could not control. When her hand was on the door handle, he spoke.  
"Wait. Maybe I... could have a look at that potion. I cannot promise anything, but I can at least point you to the right books." She turned back, beaming.  
"Really? Thank you so much, that would be amazing! I can make a print-out of everything I have found out so far. If that's not too much for you right now," she quickly added.  
"Print-out?" Severus asked, bemused.  
"Yes, I wrote it on a computer. It's a machine that Muggles use for... well, everything. But I will just give you all my notes on paper. Are you sure it's not too much?"  
"No, it's fine."  
Mette beamed and thanked him again. Before she left his room she said, "Um, by the way, could you no tell anyone about this? You're sort of the only person who knows of my... affliction."  
"Of course. I'm good at keeping information to myself."  
Mette gave him a quizzical smile before the door clicked shut behind her.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! Don't hesitate to leave a fave or review if you liked it :) Subscribe so you won't miss the next chapter!


	12. Chapter 12: Master the Wand - part 2

The letter from the Ministry arrived only two days later. With trembling hands, Severus broke the seal and read,

_Dear Mr. Snape,  
It is my pleasure to inform you that your request to carry a wand has been granted by the Ministry of Magic. Please refer to a wandmaker of your choice to purchase your wand. Please take notice that all wizards and witches who are of age are required to register their wand with the Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Law Enforcement.  
Sincerely,  
Alfred Axton, Administrative Registration Department, Ministry of Magic_

He fell back in his chair. Finally, he would be getting a wand again. When he told his good news to Xanimus, the latter gave him a thoughtful look.  
"I suppose, in that case, we can no longer put it off. We need to touch on a difficult subject from your past."  
"Why are you being so reluctant about this? Did something happen with my wand in my past life?"  
"Not your own wand. But I would like you to arrive at the memories yourself. Do you feel ready to use the techniques you learned these past couple of weeks?"  
Severus nodded.  
"Good," Xanimus said, "I'd like to go back to the Shrieking Shack with you."  
"Wh—what?"  
"It will catalyze your recollections, I think. Remember, I am always here to assist you if things get out of hand."

Not quite knowing why he had agreed to this, Severus, wearing the jacket he had gotten from Ab, with the hood up, followed Xanimus through Hogsmeade and to the shack.

It looked just as Severus had left it. The broken boards still lay on the grass in front of the door, and the wind had blown leaves into the gaping hole through which he had escaped. Xanimus used his wand to make the rest of the boards detach themselves from the doorframe and pile up neatly beside the entrance. Once both men were inside the Shack, he reattached them, including those Severus had kicked off. He pointed his wand at the ceiling. Bright orbs blossomed from the tip of his wand, filling the room with soft light.  
He asked, "Do you remember where you were when you woke up?"  
By way of an answer, Severus walked to the spot by the wall, facing the bed. He rubbed the cold sweat on his hands off on his robes.  
"Is this where the Dark Lord stood?" Xanimus asked and moved into the centre of Severus' field of vision."  
Severus nodded quickly.  
Xanimus exhaled and started the instructions. "I would like you to close your eyes and go back to the moments before you died, when the Dark Lord talked to you. Use the colours you associated with that moment."  
Severus closed his eyes and called the colours before his mind's eye: pale green and bright red. From them, the Dark Lord's face materialized, then his body. Nothing else happened. He stayed with the mental image for a few moments, but nothing would reveal itself. He opened his eyes.  
"I can't remember anything but his face," Severus said.  
"Try again. This time, imagine you are seeing something out of the corner of your eye. See if the picture gets clearer then."  
Severus closed his eyes again and went from the colours to the face to the entire man. He tried to move his focus away from the Dark Lord himself. "There is nothing but brightness. Maybe my memory is blank," he said, with his eyes still closed.  
"Stay with the brightness. Where does it come from?"  
It was just a white spot before his inner eye. He opened his eyes just when it was resolving itself into something more specific. "Wait!" Severus exclaimed and immediately closed his eyes again. There it was, glittering, slowly revolving in the air beside the Dark Lord's head, suspended by magic. "The snake," Severus whispered. He ground his teeth hard to stay in control. He kept the memory of the snake before him for as long as he could. Finally, the tightness around his chest got the better of him and he opened his eyes, gasping. He shook his head, "Just the snake," he said.  
"Go in again," the Healer insisted. Severus took a deep breath and closed his eyes once more. Conjuring up the image of the Dark Lord in the spot where he had seen Xanimus a second earlier helped him locate the snake in his mind's vision.  
"Now," Xanimus said, "I want you to answer the following question without thinking or hesitating. Which word do you have in your head?"  
"Master," Severus said, much to his own surprise.  
"Good! Which word is next?"  
Severus screwed up his face. He saw the Dark Lord's mouth move, pronouncing the word "master" and then more. But he could not hear. He focused on the mouth of his old opponent again, watching the scene before his mind's eye. "Master... master... master...wand."  
"Master the wand!" Severus shouted. He opened his eyes wide. "Master the wand," he repeated.  
"Which wand?" the Healer asked. Severus stared at him blankly. Xanimus nodded and said, "Go back in."  
The Dark Lord, the snake, the words. He saw the Dark Lord hold up his wand as if it was a conductor's baton. He spoke, but again Severus could not hear the words. From the thin lips he could read "magic" and "wand". He focused on the second word. Master the wand... which wand?... The constriction around his chest tightened. A fear grabbed hold of him. He tried to breathe through it and not lose the image, but it was overwhelming him. He opened his eyes, prepared to tell the Healer he wanted to stop, that it was too much. But the fear, the constricted feeling around his chest were gone. This was peculiar.  
"What's going on?" Xanimus asked.  
"I thought the memory was giving me a reaction, but when I left it, the feeling was gone immediately."  
"Then it's part of the memory! This is valuable information. Do you think you can try again?"  
Severus exhaled and nodded, determined to stay in the memory until he understood it. The moment he closed his eyes, a voice rang out loud and clear from the place where Xanimus stood: "While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine." The snake was staring at Severus. He observed her out of the corner of his eye. He knew what would happen. But he could not avoid it. He had to die so wizardkind could live. He had no time to think, no time to reflect, no time to prepare. In a terrible flash, the snake shot at him, fangs bare. In a split second, she would tear open his throat.  
"NO!" Severus shouted, throwing up his right hand. "I DON'T WANT TO DIE, I DON'T WANT TO DIE, I DON'T WANT TO DIE, I DON'T WANT TO DIE, I DON'T WANT TO DIE, I DON'T WANT TO DIE, I DON'T WANT TO DIE, I DON'T WANT TO DIE—"  
The Dark Lord was suddenly upon him. "Why not?" he hissed.  
"I NEED TO KNOW THAT YOU WILL BE DEFEATED!" Severus yelled. "I NEED TO KNOW!" He seemed to have gone blind, all was black around him.  
"He's dead!" the Dark Lord said. "You did all you could and he is dead!"  
The boy, he meant the boy. If the boy was dead, all was lost, all he had ever fought for was lost.  
Severus fell to his knees and breathed "He's dead?"  
"Yes, the boy defeated him."  
He was confused. "Defeated who?"  
"The boy defeated the Dark Lord."  
He opened his eyes. The bright light from the orbs bathed the tattered furniture of the shack in stark contrasts. The eyes of the face hovering above him were dark blue instead of red and looked remarkably human. Xanimus stretched out both arms. Severus let himself be pulled to his feet and set down on the bed. His vision cleared slowly. The room started to look normal again. He realized that he was drenched in sweat and shaking from head to toe. The Healer performed a flourish with his wand and a mug appeared in his hand. From a thermos he produced from the folds of his robes, he poured steaming brown liquid into the mug. He pulled a vial out of a small pouch he wore on his belt and poured its contents into the mug as well. "Drink this, it's a calming potion." he said.  
Severus stared at him with narrowed eyes, ignoring the mug. "What did you do to me?"  
"You lost yourself in the memory for a moment," Xanimus said.  
"No." Severus got up from the bed and backed away from the Healer. "You were him. Who are you really, what do you want with me?"  
Xanimus nodded pensively, undisturbed by Severus' antagonistic manner and said, "I was afraid this might happen. I understand that you distrust me, but I can assure you I have no hidden motives. I really am just a Healer assigned to help you regain your memories. No more, no less."  
"Drink from the mug," Severus hissed, his suspicions in no way alleviated.  
Xanimus did as he was asked, then said, "You don't need to drink this if you don't want to. It's hot chocolate with a calming potion."  
"How did you even know that I had this memory?"  
"Minerva told me, she warned me that we would need to access this memory before you could get a wand."  
Severus squinted at the Healer. He had spent hours at a time with him and had never seen him do anything suspicious, like drinking from a flask at regular intervals or even using his wand other than when it was absolutely necessary. If he was honest with himself, Xanimus seemed to be what he said he was. Slowly, Severus relaxed.  
Xanimus vanished the mug, strolled to the bed and sat down on the creaking mattress. After a moment, Severus did the same. They sat in silence for some minutes.  
"Sorry," Severus finally said, "for suspecting you. It seemed so real."  
The Healer asked, "Do you want to talk about the night you died? About the things you just found out?"  
Severus nodded. He spoke haltingly, reciting the words as they entered his mind.  
"The Dark Lord had a wand. The Elder Wand. They say it's the most powerful wand that ever existed. He thought that it only accepted someone as its master if that person had killed its previous owner. He believed I was that previous owner. So, he had the snake... kill me. I had to die so he could be the true master of the Elder Wand."  
Xanimus looked at him and let out a quiet sigh, saying, "That must have been a very frightening moment. I'm sorry your life ended like that."  
"There was no reason for me to live any longer. I had served my purpose in life."  
"Not quite, apparently," Xanimus said with a small smile, "Otherwise, whoever or whatever brought you back wouldn't have done so."  
Severus rubbed his face. He was done with thinking about his life and death for today. "Do you still have some of the calming potion?"

Once they were back in the dungeons, Xanimus said, "Well, now that we've gotten this memory out of the way, I assume we could go and get your wand quite soon. On Monday, perhaps?"  
Severus felt a rush of excitement momentarily revive his exhausted body. He nodded.  
"Alright," said the Healer. "I will make the arrangements."

* * *

Thanks so much for reading again! Leave a fave or a review if you enjoyed this chapter :) Subscribe so you'll never miss a new chapter!


	13. Chapter 13: The German Wandmaker - pt 1

When Severus came back to his room, a thin, decidedly Muggle-ish folder lay by his door. Only now did he remember that he had promised to help Mette.  
After the day that he'd had, his feelings about his offer to help her were once again mixed. He sighed and picked up the folder. He threw it on his table and decided to eat before he opened it. In the end, he thought that he could as well do it the next day.  
The folder was the first thing he glimpsed when he got up the following morning. He'd look at it in the afternoon. Xanimus had given him the weekend off to relax, and he planned to use it to work with some advanced spell books. He hoped that seeing the wand movements and incantations would prepare him for the moment when he would have to find his new wand.  
But Mette's folder loomed over him. Finally, he made up his mind to at least open it. _The sooner I look at her notes, the sooner I will know for sure that what she wants is impossible_. He would be able to tell her that and back it up with some good arguments. She would probably trust his expertise and let go of her plan.  
He grabbed the folder and opened it.  
There were about two dozen pages, all filled with neat type, partitioned into sections. Each section was dedicated to an ingredient for the potion called The Seer's Gift. She had pooled all the information she had found in various books, concerning origin, magical properties and mode of function of every ingredient. All the information was cited with one or several numbers referring to textbooks that she had put in a bibliography in the back of the folder. At the end of each section she had meticulously listed compounds that might counteract the effects of the ingredient in question.  
He kept flipping through the folder. He had expected to find some feeble notes, inexpertly scrambled together from simple textbooks. But this was downright scientific. Maybe she was more desperate to make this potion than he had realized.  
One section in particular caught Severus' eye, for he could not recall the name of this ingredient, which made him suspect that it was not a proper ingredient at all. The title said "Taaffeite". He read,

_Taaffeite is a rare mineral exclusively used as a gemstone. It was first discovered by Count Richard Taaffe, who received it by accident when buying a number of spinels from a jeweller's shop. Since taaffeite shares many similarities with spinel, it is often misidentified as such._

_Origin  
Taaffeite is often only identified after it has been cut and polished into a gemstone, given its misidentification as spinel. However, the stone has been found in alluvial deposits in Sri Lanka. It remains unknown where the mineral deposited there originally came from. Hence, taaffeite cannot presently be mined and does therefore not usually appear on the free market. _

_Properties – physical and chemical  
Taaffeite is an oxide mineral constituted of beryllium, magnesium and aluminium. Its chemical formula is BeMgAl__4__O__8__. It forms dihexagonal pyramidal crystals that can have different shades of pink, violet, green, red, or be colourless. It displays a hardness of 8.0-8.5 on Mohs scale._ **_Taaffeite displays double refraction when light passes in any other direction than the crystal's optic axis._**

_Properties – magical  
The double refraction opens up a hidden dimension. This means that in combination with the right ingredients, taaffeite allows the drinker of a potion made with it to see both this dimension and another. Fine-tuning which dimension is seen has to be done by carefully choosing the other ingredients. While there are many crystals that show double refraction, potions meant to equip the drinker with Seeing abilities must be made with taaffeite. Why only this mineral works is not well understood, it might simply be the combination of the chemical elements and the optical properties.  
In order for the taaffeite to carry out its effect, the finished potion must be kept brewing and stirring for several hours in the double beam created by a taaffeite refracting the light of the full moon._

The gears in Severus' mind had set to work. Now that he had read this description, a very dim recollection came floating up from the back of his mind. He had heard of this mineral before. However, since it was only used for Seeing potions, he had quickly dismissed it. He wondered if Mette had realized that taaffeite's magical properties made it crucial for her potion as well. He turned some pages, and found a second part in the back of the folder. It consisted of short essays where she argued which counter-ingredients might be best suited for her potion and how they interacted with each other to brew a concoction that did what she wanted and was safe to drink. She had indeed paid special attention to the taaffeite and hypothesized that it had to be rotated in such a way that the moonlight would pass through along the optic axis, thereby eliminating the double refraction. Severus had to disagree, but this was something he could discuss with her.  
This part of her notes was where she had gotten stuck. Most of the essays remained unfinished. There were some attempts to write out conclusions on which counter-ingredients to use, but they were rather weak. She simply lacked the training needed to dive into this kind of research – and she knew it. She had written "experimental evidence required!" in many different places.  
Severus put the folder down. Mette Vestergaard knew how to do research. And she obviously had a mind for science. He took a quill and some parchment and started scribbling. He did not stop before he had filled three rolls of parchment with detailed experimental plans. Almost all the ingredients needed could be found in his office. Except for the taaffeite, but he could talk to her about that later and they could think about where to procure one. Finally, he had something challenging to do again.

"Are you excited to get your new wand today? Xanimus asked when Severus had arrived at the dungeons on Monday morning. "We will leave tonight. Unfortunately, the best wandmaker in Britain, Ollivander, did not reopen his shop after the war. We need to go somewhere else."  
"Are you saying that I am going to get a wand from a sub-standard wandmaker?"  
"On the contrary. We will go to an old friend of mine. I met her when I was still in training. I used to travel quite a lot to learn from Healers all over the world. I came across her in Germany; she can surely hold a candle to Ollivander."  
"Germany! How are we supposed to get there?"  
"I arranged for a Portkey to bring us to a forest close to the town where the shop is. It's on a mountain in the middle of Germany. Those mountains have been quite well-known for their magical community for hundreds of years. In fact, the highest peak in that region is the place where the magical people of old used to gather on Witch Sabbath. The forests there are ripe with magic. You will hardly find any other place in western Europe with so many trees of wand quality. Naturally, the witches and wizards who live in that area have a long-standing tradition of wandmaking. Your needs will be in excellent hands."  
In his office, Severus had found some century-old Alchemy tomes which were written in Middle German. While he was able to read and understand that, he didn't know whether he would understand modern spoken German, let alone actively speak it himself.  
Xanimus was not so foolish to try and work with Severus. He realized that his patient's mind was preoccupied with their evening plans and asked him whether he wanted to do some spellwork with his own, Xanimus', wand. Severus tried some of the spells he had studied on the weekend, but it didn't quite feel right.  
"I think I'll wait for my own wand," he said after half an hour. "But there's something else I'd like to do today." He told Xanimus about the potion and that he could start experimenting on it.  
"Don't you think Mette would like to join in on those experiments?" the Healer asked.  
Severus would have rather worked alone, but had to admit that Xanimus had a point. Mette didn't even know that Severus had planned out the experiments; it would be fair to at least tell her that much. Plus, she had done most of the theoretical work up to this point. Reluctantly, he decided to send her a note. In the meantime, he could collect all the necessary ingredients.\\\

Darkness had fallen around the castle. It was time for the two men to get to the Portkey, which was set up in Minerva's office. When they arrived at the empty office, Xanimus strode towards a small, rusty pickaxe with dried earth stuck to its handle. He checked his pocket watch. "Less than a minute to go. You better come here." Severus felt positively giddy, he was very much looking forward to being able to do magic again. _I wonder which materials my wand will be made of_.  
Before he could go further in his musings, he felt a jerk behind his navel and was pulled through a twirling madness of light and dark. When the twirling slowed down, he hit the ground hard. Apparently, his body had forgotten how to safely land when traveling by Portkey. He got up and brushed off his cloak, although it was too dark to see whether it was actually dirty. In fact, this was merely an excuse to stand bent over with his hands on his knees for a little while, trying to get rid of the dizziness.  
Suddenly, a twig cracked behind him. He wheeled around but could not see who or what had caused the noise. Adrenalin surged through his body and his right hand reflexively shot to his hip before he remembered he did not have a wand. "Severus?" a voice whispered. It was Xanimus, of course. Severus exhaled. "I'm here," he said.  
"Let me check which direction we need to walk," said the Healer, then murmured "Point Me," presumably at his own wand.  
"Where are we going?" Severus asked.  
"We are not far from a small town called Stolberg. We need to walk for about an hour. I don't know these forests well enough to Apparate."  
Their footsteps rustled and crackled on the thick carpet of moss, needles, and small twigs until they found a path. After some time of walking in silence, Severus asked, "This wandmaker, what is she like?"  
"She is an elderly lady who comes from a family of wandmakers. She is well-travelled; spent quite some time in India, actually. Nonetheless, she makes her wands according to the local traditions. You will find that she uses some wand woods and core materials which differ from the ones Ollivander used. Luckily, she has a big family and is passing on the wisdom of her craft – unlike Ollivander."  
A sudden sadness, seemingly unrelated to what Xanimus had said, came over Severus, and was gone just as quickly. He tried to remember what it was that had triggered this feeling, but could not put his finger on it. Xanimus was still talking.  
"... daughters and one grandson are learning wandlore from her. Maybe we will meet some of them tonight!" The Healer seemed thrilled about this prospect, but Severus was not eager to have an audience while choosing his wand.

After a while, lights coming from the windows of houses could be seen through the trees. A yellow sign announced that they were now entering the town of Stolberg. The two men walked over deserted cobblestone streets and crossed a market square lined by quaint timbered houses. They turned a few corners and finally arrived in a narrow lane.

* * *

Thanks for reading, my friends! If you liked it, I'd love it if you left a fave or review. Also, subscribe so you don't miss the next chapter!


	14. Chapter 14: The German Wandmaker - pt 2

The Healer stopped in front of a shop with wooden ornaments and a stuffed witch on a broomstick hanging in the window. It looked like how Muggles imagined witches: gap-toothed, a long chin, a crooked nose with a big wart, and a pointy hat. Severus wondered why the wandmaker would decorate her shop with such a clichéd representation of what she was; why she would even hint at her magical abilities at all.  
Xanimus pushed a small button by the door. After a little while, footsteps could be heard from within, then the lights went on and the door opened. Severus could not help but gape at the elderly lady who greeted the two travelers with a beaming smile. She was at least as tall as him and wore baggy clothes of rough, dyed linen. Her neck was adorned with a long, thin leather cord, a large square of polished wood dangling from it. Her hair was bright orange and hung down her back in long dreadlocks, some of which were decorated with pearls made of glass, silver, and tightly wound cotton thread.  
The lady smiled amiably and beckoned them to come in. Severus received yet another surprise when he saw that the little stuffed witch from the window was in good company. Dozens of them were hanging from the ceiling, in different sizes and colors. On the floor, there were racks with clothes much like those she was wearing. Her necklace, too, apparently came from her own shop, as there was a low table featuring large wooden pendants on leather straps. The walls were lined with shelves containing little boxes. For a second, Severus thought those contained the wands, but then realized they were cube-shaped. Where had Xanimus brought him?  
The German lady had hugged Xanimus and exchanged some pleasantries with him, and now she turned to Severus.  
"So, there you are!" she said in English, although with a noticeable German accent. "Xanimus has told me a little of you," she said as she took his hand to shake it. "It's Severus, isn't it?" She put the stress on the second syllable of his name. He corrected her. "So sorry!" she said. "I am Ragna." He was glad she did not try to hug him. Severus still had not entirely gotten over her appearance and that of her shop. He shot a quick look at the little stuffed witches dangling over her head. She followed his gaze and said, "Oh, yes, silly, aren't they?" She laughed. "They are all the rage with the tourists."  
"Tourists?" Severus asked.  
"Yes, Muggles, most of them. The magic folk of old who lived in these parts did not bother too much to conceal themselves. After all, half of magical Europe travelled to this mountain on Witch Sabbath. It's much quieter nowadays, but the tales the Muggles tell each other about those times have persisted. This mountain is all about witches! Well, what Muggles imagine a 'witch' is, anyway. And I embrace the Muggle tourism, for I can't live off selling wands alone. Too many wandmakers around there, you see. The trees are teeming with Bowtruckles! I do like to think that I am the best wandmaker, though." She chuckled. "But to be able to pay the bills, I'm also selling herbal tea from my own garden and some clothes and jewelry I design. Muggle tourists love these things. Organic, artisanal and all that."  
Tea - that's what must be in the small boxes. Ragna had turned and walked towards a small door between the tea shelves.  
"Shall we?" she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she opened the door and went through it. The men followed her along a narrow corridor and down three rickety wooden steps. They found themselves in a room that seemed to serve as both a workshop and a saleroom. There were heavy Muggle machines, but also some more delicate instruments that seemed to be of magical nature. Apparently, this wandmaker used a combination of Muggle techniques and magic.  
Severus walked through a thin layer of wood shavings and saw dust to take a better look at a bulky machine with a rail. On the rail, a metal sleigh equipped with several small dials and levers could be moved back and forth. "That's a lathe," Ragna explained. "I found that working on the wood with my hands as much as possible gives me more intimate control over the characteristics of the wand. I only use magic for the finishing touches." She gestured towards the far end of the workshop, whose wall was covered with a curious shelf. It looked like hundreds of short pipes had been stuck together to form so many pigeon holes. When Severus approached the shelves, he saw that each hole held a few wands. "I put wands together that I think will benefit from each other," explained Ragna from behind him. "Each pigeon hole is lined with silver mined in these very mountains. That way, the properties of wands that don't fit together won't mix." Severus' hand was itching to touch a wand. As if Ragna had read his mind, she said, "Go on, take one!"  
"Just like that?" Severus asked.  
"Yes. I don't believe that I am the right person to pick a wand for someone. The wand and the wizard need to be able to communicate directly with each other." Severus felt uncomfortable now that she had made this moment seem so much more intimate. He just took out the first wand he saw. It was of a medium brown color, relatively short and quite rigid. He immediately put it back and took out another one. He hardly knew what he was doing, his face started feeling hot. This would not work, he needed people to not watch him.  
Ragna said, "Funny how the British have a talent for under-appreciating their war heroes. Both wizards and Muggles." Severus turned around and stared at her blankly. What did this have to do with anything? "You know," she continued, "Alan Turing, Tommy Flowers, and all those people. And you."  
"Me?"  
Xanimus had inhaled sharply, but did not say anything.  
"Well, from what we have heard over here, there was a double agent who basically made sure that You-Know-Who did not know about the plans that were in motion against him. And to make sure that the good guys had everything they needed to finish him. That double agent, that was you, no?"  
Severus did not know what to say. Had he done these things? The Healer was watching him closely. Ragna was still talking.  
"How did you do it? You-Know-Who must have been very good at reading people, I suppose he used Legilimency a lot?"  
Legilimency - a door in Severus' mind burst open.  
"Yes!" he said, trying to grasp at the memories. Legilimency. The art to interpret the contents of a person's mind. Those who did not properly understand it would call it mind-reading, but Severus knew that this was far from the truth. People's minds were too complicated to simply be "read". He had been a Legilimens himself. Maybe he still was. However, Legilimency had not only been a blessing to him, but a constant threat from the Dark Lord as well.  
He had been pacing the workshop while these memories had come rushing back, but now he stopped and said, "I could shut him out. I could choose which of my thoughts he saw."  
"Occlumency!" Ragna said. "Very clever of you!"  
That was the word. Occlumency - The solution to the Dark Lord's prying mind, but a danger in itself, too. For if he had occluded his mind too completely, his assumed master would have gotten suspicious.  
He started to feel a great pressure, caught up between too many interests again, trying to satisfy all of them at once while keeping out of the line of fire. His breath was getting shallow, his throat closing up.  
Suddenly, Xanimus was in front of him, looking him in the eyes.  
"Remember to breathe. Try to get out of your head and back into reality."  
Severus watched the Healer closely, breathing along with him. It was harder to focus than back in the dungeons, for he was painfully aware of the other person in the room, watching him in this moment of weakness. He hated that a stranger was witnessing him in this state. When he had finally managed to calm his breathing, he was surprised to find Ragna standing next to him as well.  
"I'm sorry," she said, "It was foolish of me to just jabber on like this. Would you like a cup of calming herbal tea?"  
He found it hard not to snap at her for being so indiscreet. He managed to just say, "Yes, please," albeit while clenching his jaw. After all, he was here to get a wand; he would not be swayed from his purpose.

Ragna had cleaned wood chippings and an assortment of tools from a small table and was putting down tea in large mugs. When she sat down, she gave Severus an apologetic look and said, "I truly am sorry. I was not aware how precarious your situation is."  
Severus acknowledged her apology by briefly inclining his head.  
Ragna went on, saying, "I really meant what I said. What you accomplished was very impressive and must have required a lot of courage."  
Severus was still not sure what exactly he had been doing. He remembered many of his skills and the emotions he had had in certain crucial moments, even emotions about everyday things. But despite all the work he had done with Xanimus, his mind still steered clear of almost all concrete memories, actual scenes from his past.  
He said quietly, "I don't remember any of the things I did."  
Xanimus joined in, saying, "It might be a protective strategy your mind uses. Trust yourself, we will get there."  
The mood in the room had changed. Everyone was quiet, hanging after their own thoughts. Until Ragna laid her hand on Severus' arm and said, "It doesn't matter what you remember. It matters that you did it. And many people are grateful for it, me included. He Who Must Not Be Named would surely not have stopped at Britain." She smiled at him, then said, with a wink, "Now how about choosing one of those wands?"  
Strangely, despite having been forced to open up to this stranger, he felt calmer and much more at ease now. In fact, Ragna suddenly didn't feel like a stranger anymore. He got up and slowly walked towards the wand shelf. Standing before it, he closed his eyes. After a moment, he started feeling something like static electricity wafting through the air in small waves and heard subtle whispers of magic. He walked along the shelf, his right hand hovering past the wands. There was a sudden tingle in his palm. He stopped and took out one of the wands from the pigeon hole. No, this one did not feel right. The next one seemed to fit well in his hand. He waved it without a spell, coaxing it to show its own magic. One of the pieces of wood stacked by the workbench fell apart into a pile of bright, shiny glass marbles that rolled everywhere. While the effect was quite pleasant, Severus was not satisfied. Too flashy. He put the wand back and proceeded to walk along the wall with his hand close to it. One wand rattled in its pigeon hole. He found it and gave it a flick. A miniature forest grew all over the lathe. Xanimus chuckled, and Ragna let out a pleased "Ah!" Severus regarded the wand, then put it back. While the forest was pretty, it did not reflect his style.  
He closed his eyes again and took a calming breath before scanning the wall of wands. A faint surge of energy rolled through his outstretched arm. He opened his eyes and his gaze was attracted by a wand made of light brown wood. When he took it out, the very air started whispering and tinkling. He moved it in a flourish. Out of the tip of the wand came a substance like liquid smoke. It fell onto the floor and grew into a tree with humming leaves. When he lifted the wand away, the leaves burst into a twittering cloud of tiny black birds which rose up and quickly faded. One single bird was still seated on the branches, singing a lament that eerily echoed through the silence. Then all, bird and tree, vanished in a wisp of smoke.  
This was the wand. His wand.  
"That's a very special wand you have there," Ragna said, smiling. "Silver lime. The tree this wood comes from grows in my own garden, as it is not native to these parts. It is interesting that this wand would have chosen you right after the little conversation we had..." Ragna's eyes twinkled.  
"What do you mean?" Severus asked. He walked over to the table and sat down again, admiring his wand, sliding his fingers along the light, smooth wood. It was beautiful.  
"Silver lime is known to perform best for those skilled in Legilimency," Ragna said.  
"Oh..." Severus hesitated. "Does this mean that this wand only chose me because we had just talked about Legilimency? That another wand might actually be better suited for me?"  
"No, no, I don't think that this is quite the case. It seemed to me that before, you were very... closed, if you know what I mean. After we had talked about your memories of Legilimency and Occlumency, you seemed much more comfortable. From this, I would think that Legilimency plays a big role in your character. The wand chose you wisely."  
"What's the core?" Xanimus asked.  
"It's something you can only find here," Ragna said mysteriously. "Silver, mined from a lode that runs right underneath the legendary hoofprint of Brunhilde's horse on the Rosstrappe."  
The two men received this information with a blank expression.  
"It's an old legend," Ragna explained. "There used to be - probably still are - giants in these parts. Many hundreds of years ago, one of them, Bodo, was determined to marry the king's daughter, Brunhilde. Bodo was a terrible brute and would probably have killed her soon enough, but Brunhilde's father was keen on the marriage because it would have meant peace with the giants, if only for a while.  
"Brunhilde refused Bodo steadfastly. One night, Bodo had been drinking with his companions and decided he would have Brunhilde that same night. He went to her father's castle. Brunhilde woke from his heavy, unsteady footsteps on the mountain and ran from her room to the stables. She jumped on her horse and fled - not a moment too early, for Bodo came crashing through the gate. With huge leaps, he ran after the horse that carried away his bride. Brunhilde rode like the devil, hardly knowing where she was going.  
"She ended up on a cliff, with no way to turn, finally at Bodo's mercy. But she would not submit. She spurred her horse, who took an almighty jump, crossing the deep valley and landing safely on the other side. Bodo also ran, and jumped, but came just short. He fell into the river valley and was crushed. From that day onward, the river was called Bode, and the rock on which Brunhilde's steed landed is known as the Rosstrappe. You can still see the horse's hoofprint today."  
"Not just a new wand, but a legend to go with it as well!" the Healer exclaimed, nudging Severus in the side.  
Only now did Severus realize he did not have any money to buy it with. When he said as much, Xanimus assuaged him, saying, "Don't worry, I have it covered."

They returned to Hogwarts soon afterwards, with Ragna's invitation to come back soon and tell her how the wand was working for Severus. He did not go to sleep until the early morning hours, trying first simple, then more complicated spells. The wand had a wisdom of its own and seemed very well suited for non-verbal magic. It understood him.  
The next day, at the dungeons, Xanimus was not the only one waiting for him. Minerva was there, as well. She started talking right after he had entered.  
"Good morning, Severus. I need to speak with you." For a moment, he was afraid that maybe there had been a mistake, that she would take away his wand. Her next words both consoled and terrified him.  
"Despite my explicit instructions, word has gotten out to the students that you are here. We need to address this immediately. They should see you and officially hear what happened to you. It's the end of term in a few weeks, most of them will go home for Christmas. If we tell them now, both they and their parents will have time to get used to the fact that you are back."  
Severus opened and closed his mouth a few times before he found his words. "Is there any way we can avoid this?"  
"I'm afraid not. If we – I – try to hush it up, it could have dire consequences for the school. It's imperative we are upfront about your return, to nip any rumors in the bud."  
"When would I have to meet them? And in what setting?"  
"I thought we could do it tomorrow. At dinner."  
"How much will I have to do with the students after that?"  
"Nothing, at first. Although..."  
"Yes?"  
"We are a little short on staff for Potions classes..."  
"But there is this woman, Professor... Blanche."  
"Blanchard, yes." Minerva hesitated. "You see... she is not as thoroughly trained as I would want her to be. But it is exceedingly hard to get staff nowadays. Quite a lot of people died within these very walls not two years ago, it is understandable people are not too keen to work here now."  
"What would you want me to do?"  
"Maybe, Claire and you could take turns teaching each class? I was considering to give you only the older students at first, but I'm afraid the younger students' Potions training would... lack if they are taught only by her for another entire schoolyear."  
"Which means that, in effect, I will be the only one teaching a proper Potions class, and I only get half the time to do so."  
"Now, Severus, Professor Blanchard does teach them some things. Just... not enough for them to receive top marks on their O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s."  
"Where did she receive her training? I do not remember her at all."  
"She was homeschooled. She is, in fact, a distant niece of Horace Slughorn. I am afraid she quite exaggerated the amount of training she received from him. Would you be willing to take up teaching again? You would be doing me a great favour."  
In truth, he had itched to be the Potions master again right when he had met Claire Blanchard. He had no doubt that the subject of Potions suffered from her lack of expertise.  
"I will do it," he said, "should I start at the beginning of next term?"  
Minerva seemed a little surprised. "Well, if you wish, yes. Although it seems wise to me to start slow, maybe with the three youngest classes. We can build up your schedule from there." She paused to look at him, then said, "you have a little over three weeks. Are you sure this will be enough to prepare?  
Severus gave her a curt nod. Before Minerva left, she said, her hand on the door handle, "By the way, you will need to teach in the same classroom as Professor Blanchard. And, Severus – do be civil with the students, I implore you!" She gave him a piercing look over the rim of her spectacles and left. Severus looked at the closed door, wondering what that last remark meant.

* * *

As always, thanks for reading! Don't forget to leave a fave or a review :) Subscribe so you'll never miss a new chapter!


	15. Chapter 15: Potion Making - part 1

"Teaching again, huh!" said Xanimus. Severus jumped, he had all but forgotten the Healer was there.  
"Do you think this is a bad idea?" Severus asked.  
"Not necessarily. However, we should prepare you by going through all the student's names to make sure none of them are familiar to you and could trigger an uncontrolled memory."  
Severus felt cautiously optimistic after this day. He had a wand that already seemed like a natural extension of his arm and none of the names on the list of students had been familiar to him. Things might just start getting back to normal.  
There was one thing he still needed to do. He took a piece of parchment and a quill to write a note to Mette.  
_Dear Professor Vestergaard_, he wrote, then scratched it out. How about _Dear Mette?_ No, that was too familiar. He tried _Good evening_, but that just looked ridiculous. He settled for _Dear Mette_ after all, although reading the words made cold sweat break out on his forehead. What if she found it too cordial? _Why is this so hard?_ He tried to finish the note without thinking about it too much. In the end, it ran

_Dear Mette,  
I have read your notes and found them quite thorough. I have come up with a few experiments to test your hypotheses on some of the ingredients. If you like, you can assist me in conducting them at your earliest convenience. Send Bimky with the reply.  
Sincerely,  
Severus Snape_

He was about to summon Bimky, but then his eyes fell on the last line of the note. He took his wand and erased his last name. She had made fun of him for being too formal before, he did not want to attract her ridicule again. After he had sent Bimky away with the note and instructions as to its recipient, he got ready to go to bed. He found it hard to fall asleep, his thoughts swirling. Wands in pigeon holes and potions ingredients and steaming cauldrons and Mette talking about rare minerals.  
The next morning, a piece of parchment greeted him beside the breakfast tray on his desk. He quickly opened it.

_Dear Severus,_ (he was very relieved she had chosen the same familiar opening)  
_Wow, I am so happy to hear this! It's wonderful of you to do this! We can meet on Friday after lunch, I am free then. Does this work for you?  
Cheers  
Mette_

He turned over the note, scribbled the word _Yes_ on the back and summoned Bimky to deliver his reply. When he went downstairs to meet Xanimus in the dungeons, he felt light on his feet.

Thursday evening came, the day Minerva would formally announce his return to the students. He and Xanimus had been in the Great Hall at night, had sat at the teacher's table and walked between the long house tables. Whether this would prepare him for when the Hall was full of students staring at him, no one could say. Xanimus had advised him to take a few drops of calming potion before the event, as a collapse or outburst in front of the students would not exactly be helpful. Severus had done so, with a batch of potion he had brewed himself. He had made a mental note to supply Xanimus with the improved recipe. The potion Xanimus had given to him that day in the Shrieking Shack had made him drowsy. His own recipe did not have that side effect.  
Severus stood in a room off the Great Hall and waited until Minerva would call him. The other teachers had already taken their seats and the students were eagerly waiting for dinner to be served. Through the door, he could hear what was going on inside. When he heard Minerva's voice say, "Your attention, please!" his heart started beating so hard he had to strain to hear her through the thumping.  
"I would like to address some rumours that have been loose in this school. I can tell you today that these rumours are true. Professor Snape, who had been killed by He Who Must Not Be Named during the Battle of Hogwarts, has, it would seem, returned from the dead." The Hall was immediately abuzz with hundreds of voices.  
"Silence, please!" called the Headmistress. When the buzz had died down, she continued, "We do not as yet know why or how this has happened and I must ask you to refrain from speculating about it. Now, please welcome back in our midst – Professor Severus Snape."  
He pushed open the door that lead to the dais where the teacher's table stood. The door seemed to weigh at least a ton and took an eternity to open. He stepped into the hall. Complete silence had fallen. His footsteps echoed as he walked up to Minerva, who reached out a hand and smiled at him. He went to stand next to her and laid eyes on the students for the first time. He was startled to see how few they were. A third of the length of each house table was empty.  
Minerva said, "Many of you will remember Professor Snape from before the war. He will resume some of his teaching duties at the beginning of next term, sharing Potions lessons with Professor Blanchard." This caused the students to start discussing amongst themselves again. "For the time being," Minerva's voice rose above them, "Professor Snape will teach the first-, second-, and third-year students every other week. I expect all of you to be at your best behaviour. Now please, enjoy your dinner."  
She stepped away from the front of the dais and gestured for Severus to follow her to the teacher's table. Food head already appeared. He spotted Mette who smiled and gave him a little wave. Minerva had saved him a seat between herself and Professor Blanchard. The young Potions Mistress smiled, inclined her head and pushed one shoulder forward in a coquette manner. Severus nodded at her slightly, then sat down. He looked at the food in front of him but could not bring himself to eat. Turning to the Headmistress, he asked,  
"Why are there so few students?"  
"The war has taken its toll. Parents have become weary of sending their children away from home. More young wizards than ever are being home-schooled. It is unfortunate. Even though we are short on teachers, we can still offer a much better education than any one wizard could."  
"I agree!" came a voice from Severus' right. "I mean, I used to teach children the fine art of potion brewing before I came here. Just simple stuff to give them a head start before they came to Hogwarts, you know. But I feel that here, there are just so many more possibilities, with all the equipment and ingredients!" There was that tinkling laughter again. Severus was just glad that she had not emptied out his storage cupboard and office. Come to think of it – what ingredients did she use if not those? He turned to ask her.  
She answered, "Oh, I ordered a completely fresh stock from the apothecary I used to work at." She tossed back her long, strawberry blonde hair. "It's better to have new ingredients to make sure everything works as expected, don't you think?" Behind Severus' back, Minerva clicked her tongue.  
"Actually," Severus said to Claire, "if preserved correctly, most ingredients keep their properties and potency for a long time. You must know this if you worked at an apothecary."  
"Oooh," Claire said, round-eyed, "of course I know that, silly!" She gave his shoulder a little slap with her hand and laughed as if he had made a wonderful joke. "I just felt that I needed to make the subject my own, you know. I didn't want to muck out the leftovers of my predecessor." Severus raised his eyebrows, but Claire quickly put her hand on his arm and said, "Of course, now that I actually met you..." She looked into his eyes for an uncomfortably long time and left the end of her sentence dangling in the air. "So, will you introduce me to the secrets of your private stores?"  
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Severus said.  
"Oh, come on, why not?" she pouted.  
"My private stores are private for a reason. The ingredients in there are all rare and expensive. I collected most of them myself."  
Claire's face lightened up. "Then there are stories to tell about them! How fascinating! Maybe you can teach me a thing or two to help me start my own collection!"  
Severus was running out of ways to shut her down. He noticed Mette a few seats down the table, rolling her eyes and shaking her head ever so slightly.  
"So?" Claire chirped, craning her neck to get back into his field of vision, "will you let me in on your secrets?"  
"No, not at present." Apparently, being blunt about it was the only way to shut her up. Only, she still didn't shut up.  
"Oooh, then I will ask you again some other time, okay?"  
Severus did not answer. Instead, he decided to eat something to discourage Claire from continuing to talk to him. At that moment however, dinner vanished from the tables and pudding appeared. Severus served himself some mince pie. Claire was still talking, albeit thankfully, she had abandoned the topic of his private stores.  
"Ugh, I hate how they tempt us with all this sweet stuff here!" She turned her face away from the table and held out her hand as if to protect herself from the tempting sight. "If I ate everything they served, I'd be a hippopotamus already!" she laughed again, then heaved an big, resignated sigh and said, "I guess I'll just have to stay strong. I really can't afford to gain any weight." She looked at Severus expectantly. He had no idea why she would expect him to comment on that or how to reply.  
A few seats further, a piece of cutlery clattered onto the table. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Mette lean back in her chair and push away her pudding plate. Claire shot her a brief glance and smiled in an oddly satisfied way.

When he went back to his room, he felt strangely nervous, but also relieved. This was it. He had jumped through all the necessary hoops. He was re-established, could walk the school freely again. But it also meant that there were more eyes on him, more expectations.

The next day, as Xanimus and he were getting ready to go for lunch in the Great Hall, someone knocked on the door. Since yesterday, this was not such an alarming occurrence anymore, but Severus had not yet shaken the reflex of wanting to hide.  
"Come in," Xanimus called. When the door opened, it was Mette. Severus was momentarily confused, had she had lunch already? Did he get the time wrong?  
"Hi," said Mette hesitatingly, "I was wondering whether you want to have lunch together? Now that you're out in the open?" She laughed awkwardly, "That way, we will be finished at the same time and can come down here together. Or did you have other plans?"  
"No. Yes. I mean, we can go to lunch."  
"And you, of course!" Mette quickly said to Xanimus, who smiled amusedly. The three of them set off towards the Great Hall together.  
While they were eating, Mette said in between bites, "Thanks again for doing this. I had just hoped for some hints, but this is so much better!"  
"It's alright," Severus said. "I think it will be a good opportunity to sharpen my skills."  
Mette nodded, then asked, "Is there actually anything I can help you with or will I just be in the way?"  
"We will see when we are there, I suppose."  
"Well, I'll do my best." She chuckled nervously.  
Severus thought that maybe his last remark had been discouraging, so he said, "Your notes were really thorough. You have provided me – us – with a good place to start."  
She smiled and said, "I'm glad to hear that."  
There was something else on Severus' mind, now that they were on the topic of Potions. He lowered his voice and said,  
"Professor Blanchard – she seems..."  
"Dim?" Mette offered quietly without looking up.  
"Is she a good teacher?"  
"I don't really know, although I can hardly believe she is. As a person... well, you've met her. She can be a little challenging."  
"Challenging to get rid of," he said dryly. Mette let out a snort of laughter.  
"Are you worried about the students' education?" She asked after she had composed herself.  
"Well, yes. Although I am more worried about the subject's..." He did not know how to express what exactly he was worried about.  
But Mette nodded thoughtfully, saying, "Yeah, it's infuriating when someone thinks they can do something casually, without any training. Something that you have spent tons of time and effort getting to know intimately. They can't grasp the intricate beauty and complexity of the subject, but shout about their so-called skills loudly enough that everyone thinks they are quite the expert. And then" – she was getting so agitated she was struggling to keep her voice down – "they have the audacity to try and pick your brain about it because they themselves have no real interest to really do the work to get into the subject!"  
Mette took a few calming breaths and said, "Sorry, people like that are a trigger for me."  
Severus couldn't help but smile a little.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Don't forget to leave a fave or a review if you liked it :-) Subscribe so you'll never miss a chapter!


	16. Chapter 16: Potion Making - part 2

After lunch, they went to his office. He had already laid out the ingredients, cauldron and his experimental plan on his desk. Mette stepped over the threshold while looking around at the jars on the shelves, mouth slightly open. She went close to one of the jars and asked,  
"What is that? It looks like a cross between a naked mole rat and some kind of sea anemone."  
"That's a Murtlap. Only their tentacles are used in potions, but I like to have entire specimens."  
"Do they live in very hot climates?"  
"No, they live in Britain, on the coast. Why would you assume they live in hot climates?"  
"In Britain, wow. They must lose a lot of body heat via those tentacles. I wonder how they survive."  
Severus was momentarily surprised. He had never thought about that. Mette said, turning to him,  
"Maybe it's because they're magic." She smiled crookedly and shrugged.  
"Should we begin?" Severus asked.  
"Yes, please!"  
He took out the folder Mette had given him and opened it. He had crossed things out and put down his own thoughts in many places.  
"Oh," she said when she saw his notes all over her work. "Sorry, I guess I'm pretty clueless, huh." She looked disappointed.  
"It's just natural," he answered, "You were not trained properly."  
He proceeded to explain his thoughts on some of the ingredients she had considered. "You want to use Giant Hogweed. I agree with trying it, but we will need to be very careful with the dosage. Just a little too much and you will go blind. You also considered lead. I'm sure you know that it's extremely toxic."  
"Yes, I thought maybe we need something to counteract the toxicity."  
Severus shook his head and said, "If the Hogweed is not suitable, we will try quinine instead. It has similar properties, but is not nearly as fatal. Most of the other ingredients are fine to begin with. Although I do not have any _Phreatichthys andruzzii_ heads, and they are hard to come by. We might try another species."  
"I thought this might be a problem. If you think some other kind of cavefish will work, I trust your expertise." She laughed nervously, then said, "There's something else that we will need to find. And that one is crucial, I think."  
"The taaffeite," Severus said.  
"Yes. I have done some research and there's a chance I have tracked one down. But getting at it is another question."  
Severus raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Where did you find it?"  
"I can't be entirely sure, but there might be one in a private collection of an old lady. If I'm right, it came from Richard Taaffe's own collection. After he found the first taaffeite, he got a little obsessed with them and managed to buy a few more. Now, the first one he identified is in a museum. But the others stayed in his collection after his death. The collection was split up and sold, auctioned, and sold again so many times that people might not remember exactly which of the stones is a taaffeite and which of them are spinels. I checked all the advertisements and auction catalogues. One of the taaffeites was listed as part of one particular collection the first two times it was sold. The third time, it's not on the list anymore."  
"That's not a reason to believe the sellers were not aware that there was a taaffeite in the collection. They might just have kept it for themselves and only sold the rest of the collection."  
Mette shook her head excitedly, saying, "That's the thing – on that list, there's one more spinel than on the previous ones! And the last owner before that sale died alone and intestate. There's a good chance that his heirs found the jewel collection but no list what was in there. And so, they might have given it to a jeweller to catalogue, and that jeweller took the taaffeite for a spinel!"  
Severus gave her a shrewd glance. "And you know where that collection is?"  
"I think so. I mean, I'm pretty sure I do. Just, how to get it from the lady who owns it now, I have no idea."  
"How old is she?"  
"Old," Mette said with a twinkle in her eyes.  
"I suppose her relatives will be just too happy to get those jewels into their claws. I don't have much hope."  
"I have saved up enough money to buy the 'spinels' from them at a very good price, well above market. I will offer to buy all of the spinels so I don't raise suspicions that there is something special about one of them."  
Severus was still doubtful. This was a long shot. Was it even worth trying to make this potion work if they were unlikely to procure the key ingredient? Then again, it was not impossible that fate would be on their side. And he had already drawn up all the experimental plans. He looked at Mette. She seemed anxious.  
He made up his mind. "Let us start with this first and worry about the taaffeite later. There's enough work to be done before we can even think about that step." Her posture immediately relaxed and she beamed at him. He was not used to being beamed at. Seeing that his words had such an effect on her consolidated his decision.  
"May I?" she asked while stretching out her hand for his experimental plans. He made an affirmative gesture. While she pored over the plan, she kept frowning and nodding. Severus found this a little ridiculous. Surely, she could not hope to understand anything? Her notes were thorough, yes, but the fine art of experimental design was on another level enitrely than literature research. He was about to extract the parchment from under her hands when she pointed at a line and asked,  
"This is meant as a positive control, I assume? And this one is to make sure that the poppy-tears' effect is not masked by the Hypocystis?"  
"Have you... done this before?" he asked.  
She shook her head quickly and said, "No, not like this. I just read and thought a lot about these ingredients in the past year."  
_She has been at Hogwarts for more than a year. Has she dedicated all her time to this potion?_ She had to be very desperate indeed.  
"You seem to know something about experimentation, too," he said.  
"Oh, yeah, I was a scientist back when I lived a Muggle life." She said this with an air of dismissal, as if it was of no importance.  
"What did you work on?"  
"Erm," she gave an embarrassed little laugh, "I am a biophysicist by training. We were looking at how life works in terms of its mechanical properties. I was working on the forces that cells are subjected to when they move together, in a coordinated manner, as a tissue."  
Severus was intrigued. He had never thought of Muggles, or Squibs, for that matter, as being skilful or knowledgeable. He said, "Did you ever find out anything important?"  
"Not me, personally. These things take a long time. I mean, I guess you have spent a lot of time over a demanding potion you were developing or optimizing, right? And you probably had setbacks and needed to revise your hypothesis and start over." He had to admit that this had been the case. She continued, "Well, it's the same with Muggle scientists, especially the ones that just started. We have to begin somewhere, but we don't know whether it's the perfect place. And then, experiment by experiment, we get a better idea of how to approach our scientific question. But it can take years. Anyway, my boss made some pretty important discoveries in the field. Some of the things he found out are now in every biology textbook."  
Severus' image of Muggles was wavering. He had only ever pitied their magic-less existence and had assumed that they were doomed to live a dull life without any real achievements. Yet here was a Squib with an aptitude for science, and who told stories of a Muggle who had generated textbook knowledge. But that was just Muggle knowledge, he reminded himself.  
Mette continued, "This stuff should be in your books, too. After all, wizards and magical plants and creatures are all living beings, right? Even wizard embryos have to develop from a zygote to a fully-formed human being. Can't have that without cells moving and tissues forming." She winked at him. "And you must have a pretty solid background in chemistry, I suppose? I mean, everything in the world is a chemical. And the laws of chemistry don't stop working even if something has magical properties as well. Right?" She looked at him with a challenging smile.  
"Yes, I... suppose you're right." The information in wizarding textbooks was mostly of a magical nature. But it was perfectly possible, probable even, that the elementary science, the physics, chemistry and biology, came from Muggle sources.  
"Sooo," Mette said, "how can I help you with this?" She nodded at the equipment on the desk.  
Initially, he had not planned to let Mette do anything, only look over his shoulder and maybe ask some questions. But she might be capable of doing more that that.

She ended up protocolling everything he did and meticulously put down the results. They spent hours working feverishly and were surprised when they realized that they had missed dinner.  
Severus called Bimky and asked her to bring them some food. While they ate, they sat poring over Mette's protocols. They discussed the outcomes of the experiments until long after their empty dinner plates had vanished. They debated what the results meant, and what further experiments would be necessary. When they finally parted ways, Severus realized that he had not enjoyed himself so completely for as long as he could remember.

On the next day, he and Xanimus dived into his teaching-related memories, but Severus was already planning the next experiments in his mind. He decided to ask Mette at lunch whether she wanted to meet again the next day.  
When the two men walked into the Great Hall for their lunch, Severus took the same chair as the day before. He had to admit that he hoped Mette would do the same thing, so they could sit together again. They could talk about the potion. But it was not Mette who sat down next to him today. Instead, swerving her hips around the backrest and tossing her long hair, Claire appeared beside him. Lunch might just have become less enjoyable.  
"Hiiii," she twittered, "How's it going?"  
"Good," was all he said. Claire nudged him, knocking the carrots off his fork.  
"Oh, come on, I'm sure it's more than just 'good'!" She leaned close and murmured, "I heard you have been shut up in those dungeons of yours with our little Muggle Studies teacher."  
Before he could check himself, he looked round at Claire. Word really did travel fast.  
Claire gave a theatrical gasp, saying, "So the rumours are true!" Then, she asked conspiratorially, "How was it? The poor dear, I always pity her so much. Imagine being a Squib!" She shook her head, an expression of utmost sympathy on her face.  
"She's doing fine, I think," Severus said dryly.  
"Oh yes, of course, she doesn't know any other way. Although I have to say, it's very handy having someone with contacts to the Muggle world. I find the choice of beauty products in Diagon Alley very disappointing, if you know what I mean."  
He did not. Claire gave him a quick once-over, her cheerful expression flickering for a tiny moment.  
Severus' tolerance level for being made uncomfortable had been reached, so he decided that his lunch was over. He excused himself, also saying good-bye to Xanimus for the weekend. When he walked along the teachers' table to the side door, he walked past where Mette was sitting. He stopped beside her, thinking that maybe he could invite her for tomorrow's experiments. But he felt Claire's gaze upon him and decided against it. Mette turned around and smiled at him. He couldn't think of anything to say, so he just nodded and moved on.  
He spent the afternoon planning the new experiments and also sent Bimky with a note to Mette. Once, he wondered why Claire had looked him up and down like that, with this almost concerned expression on her face. He brushed the thought aside and continued his work.

* * *

Thanks so much for reading again! Leave a fave or a review if you enjoyed it :) Subscribe so you'll never miss a new chapter!


	17. Chapter 17: The Grey Box - part 1

When he arrived at the dungeon on Sunday morning, Mette was already standing in front of his office. He returned her smile almost involuntarily. They exchanged a somewhat awkward "Good morning" and went inside. Her bag made a thumping noise as she set it on the floor.  
He handed her a piece of parchment. "Here's a list of ingredients we will need today. Could you get them from the storage cupboard? I will set up the cauldron."  
Mette hesitated. "Are you sure you want to trust me with this?" she asked.  
"Yes, all my ingredients are clearly labelled, you should have no trouble finding them. And whatever you cannot find in the cupboard will be in my personal stores. We can get those things together."  
After they had gathered everything, Severus walked her through the experiments. He had planned to let her do some of the simpler analyses herself, but when he asked her, she bent down to her bag and produced a large, flat grey box, huffing a little as she lifted it onto the table.  
"I thought that I could protocol again, but using my laptop this time," she explained. "Then we will have all the protocols and results stored safely and I can print out a copy for you as well. Would that be Ok?"  
"I suppose. How does this work?" he asked. She smiled and bent down to retrieve something else from her bag. It was a small silver cube, which she placed next to the box. As she squeezed the cube with her thumb and forefinger, a tiny antenna rose from its top, unfolded into an oval shape and started spinning rapidly, making a whirring noise that rose higher and higher until it became inaudible. She opened the lid of the box-like contraption. When she pushed a button, the screen in the upper part of the laptop came on with painfully bright light, white letters on a black background.  
"What is all this?" Severus asked with knitted brows.  
"This," she gestured at the grey box, "is a portable computer. You can use it to write things or to calculate stuff or even make drawings. Whatever you make with it gets stored inside it and you can change it whenever you like. Or print it, like I did for you.  
"Now, this," she nodded at the silver cube, "is something Professor Flitwick developed for me. It creates a field around electronics that counteracts magic. That way, I can use my computer inside the castle. And all the appliances in my house, for that matter. It's a real life-saver."  
While Mette had talked, the black screen of the laptop had been replaced by a teal-coloured one with a number of neatly arranged little pictures. She rapidly tapped a button below a black pad in the bottom part of the laptop. Something that might have represented an empty piece of white paper appeared on the screen. It had a tiny, blinking vertical line near the top left corner. Mette let her fingers dance over the rows of keys, making words appear on the white background. She turned to Severus, smiling and saying,  
"This is how it works. Instead of writing on parchment, I write in here, using the keyboard. I can always go back and correct, delete or add things. Convenient, huh!"  
Severus had to admit that it was. Doing the same things on parchment could be quite bothersome, as one had to rearrange and push back all the words that were already written. If not done properly, words and letters might get tired of being shooed around and choose their own way to organize themselves, turning a carefully written essay into utter nonsense.  
Mette sighed and said, "I don't understand why wizards are so adamant on using technology from the 19th century."  
Severus did not want to admit that he didn't have an answer to this. Luckily, Mette didn't seem to expect an answer, for she asked, "Should we start?"  
While he was working, Mette typed, asking for details about what he was doing every now and then. Apart from those interjections, they worked in silence, focused on their respective tasks.

As they sat staring at the cauldron, waiting for a simmering period to pass, Mette started fidgeting with her hands and shuffling her feet. She inhaled as if to say something, but didn't. Finally, she seemed to make up her mind and spoke.  
"Um, I know that you don't remember many details from your former life. But, er... I was just wondering... how old you are."  
This was not something he had considered at all, even though some people had remarked that he 'looked younger'. He was not the type to scrutinize his own face in the mirror; he just used his reflection to shave and brush his teeth.  
When he didn't say anything, she continued, "I mean, I know that you were 38 when you died..."  
_How does she know this? Did she look it up?_  
"... but you don't look much older than perhaps, I don't know, twenty-seven, twenty-eight?"  
He slowly shook his head and said, half to her, half to himself, "I don't know."  
Mette smiled with one corner of her mouth and said, "Maybe you can choose how old you are. What age do you want to be?"  
"I don't know. How old are you?"  
"Twenty-six."  
"Right. I could be twenty-eight."  
"Twenty-eight it is," she laughed.  
Now that he thought of it – what date of birth had they put into his file at the Ministry? But he had no time to dwell on this, since the contents of the cauldron started swirling of their own accord, the movement of the liquid following a pattern that told him he needed to move on to the next step.  
The soft clacking of the keyboard accompanied their work. He was amazed how quickly Mette's fingers moved, churning out lines of neat, small type on the computer screen. Every now and then, she moved her forefinger across the black pad in front of the keyboard.  
She caught him staring and explained, "This is the mouse, or, well, in this case, I suppose it's called a touchpad. It's used to navigate this little arrow across the screen and point to things. When I have the arrow where I want it, I push this button to activate the function I need. You can try it later, if you want."  
He felt a certain resentment at having someone explain this Muggle contraption to him like he was a child. Although he was, once again, forced to admit that Muggles might not be as lowly in their intellect and abilities as he had always assumed. He might even try the laptop out later, although preferably when Mette wasn't looking.

His chance came when they had finished their first round of experiments for the day and were about to go for lunch. Mette excused herself to go to the loo before they left. The door had barely closed behind her when Severus turned towards the bright screen. He put his finger on the touchpad. A small thing that looked like a capital letter "I" responded when he moved his finger around on the pad. When it got to the edge of the white page, it turned into the arrow he had seen earlier. He directed it towards the top of the screen, as Mette had done, and tapped the left button. A list rolled down from the word he had tapped. The language on the computer was Norwegian, so he did not know the meaning of any of the words. He arbitrarily clicked on one word in the list. Another, shorter list opened. He clicked on one of the words there. Actually, this one he recognized, it was the name "Melanie", with yesterday's date typed out behind it. When he clicked on that, the screen changed. Different text appeared in place of the experimental protocol.  
At the top of the page, the words "Hi Mel," were written. This was obviously some kind of letter, and it was written in English. _This is private_. He looked for a way to make the letter disappear from the screen. There was a small red "x" on the top right. He was about to direct the arrow to it, when his attention was caught by a word further down the page. It was his own name. He thought it would be unlikely that Mette knew someone else by the same name. Now, he just had to read it. His eyes darted across the lines of text. He read,

_... rather shy, he doesn't really talk much. Still, I kind of want to get to know him. There's just one thing that bothers me. But at this point, it's impossible to breach the subject, we haven't hung out nearly enough for me to say anything. It's just that his hair is rather oily all the time, also his skin a little. I don't think it's a hygiene issue though, everything else seems totally fine – no sweat, always clean clothes, etc. He lives a bit off the grid, so maybe he doesn't know about shampoo for greasy hair? I know what you're going to say, that I shouldn't try to fix people, that I'm getting myself into another mess, etc., etc. And I'm not gonna say that 'this time it's different', I just really—"_

Footsteps were approaching. Frantically, he moved his finger across the touchpad, hoping that the little red "x" would extinguish all evidence that he had read her letter. To his great relief, the page disappeared. He randomly picked up some dried leaves from the table to seem busy when Mette came back into the room. She walked to her laptop and, without taking a closer look at it, tapped the buttons a few times. After a short while, the computer screen went black. She folded the screen onto the keyboard and said, "Shall we?"  
Severus was glad that she had been momentarily busy, for his face had started feeling hot when she had come back. He had pretended to clean up some more things, keeping his flushed face hidden between his – greasy – curtains of hair. Now, he felt safe to look up again and followed her out into the corridor.

The moment they walked into the Great Hall, Claire shot up from her chair, waving frantically, calling, "Mr. Potions Master! Over he-ere!" in a voice so loud that several students looked up from their plates. Of course, they immediately stuck their heads together and started smirking and whispering to each other.  
Severus looked down the length of the teachers' table. Either he was having bad luck or Claire had been very clever, for there were no two places left that were next to each other. He considered taking one of the other chairs – not the one beside Claire – but the eyes of the students, and some teachers, were on him now. It would probably trigger a lot more talking if he chose to sit elsewhere after Claire's little show. He had no choice but to seat himself by her side. She chirped, "Sorry, honey!" while giving Mette an innocent look. The latter grinned sarcastically and walked further down the table.  
"So, there we are," Claire said while winking at him, "the Potions people!" She threw her head back laughing. Severus thought that Mette might be on her way to become much more of a "Potions person" that Claire was.  
"How's it goooiiing?" Claire asked, drawing out the last word in a sing-songy voice.  
"Fine," he answered.  
"Fine? So, does that mean your experiments are going to be finished soon?"  
_How does she know about this?_ Out loud he said, "Possibly."  
This sent Claire into an inexplicable rapture, as she almost screamed, "Really! How wonderful!", which turned lots of heads yet again. She continued less loudly, though still clearly audible, saying, "Then you won't need to hide yourself away in those dreadful dungeons anymore but can come up to my – I mean our – new classroom. You should definitely come soon so I can show you everything and help you find your way around the new ingredients. We'll have lots of time after the Christmas break!" She seemed absolutely ecstatic about it. When he sighed and didn't reply, she leaned close to him and rubbed her shoulder against his, chirping "I won't take 'No' for an answer, you know."  
Severus hunched his shoulders to break contact with her and said, through gritted teeth, "Maybe," just so she would shut up. Claire was taking this as a definitive yes, for she immediately started planning verbosely what exactly they would be doing together and explaining how she had laid out the classroom and what her teaching methods were. Severus gave a few monosyllabic answers when she made him say something and excused himself as soon as he had swallowed his last bite.

Mette arrived back at his office soon after him. She seemed to be in a foul mood. After they had started experimenting, however, Severus was too focused on his task to worry about her. After a surprisingly short amount of time, she announced that she was getting tired and asked whether they could stop for the day. Severus agreed, although he could have easily continued. Judging by what he had seen from Mette in the past, he suspected that she could have gone on much longer too. However, she sighed and said, "Sorry, I'm a little out of it today. Anyway, it's the Christmas break soon, maybe we can do the rest then?" She looked at him, holding her breath.  
"Yes, we can do that," he said. She exhaled.  
While they were cleaning and putting away the equipment, he asked, "Aren't you going to see your family?"  
"No, I... no. I don't usually spend Christmas with them. We're not that close, I guess. I told them I needed to prepare lessons and grade homework and stuff like that."  
As Severus himself had no particular feelings about Christmas, he could sympathize with someone who planned to stay out of it all. After a little pause, Mette said,  
"I will miss my country though. All the snow." She chuckled, adding, "And TV."  
"TV?" A vague image appeared before his mind's eye. He had a faint recollection of watching TV, but it felt like that had been a long time ago.  
"Yes, there is this one film they always show around Christmas, it's called—" She uttered a string of sounds that Severus could not understand. "That's 'Three Nuts for Cinderella' in English," she explained. "It's a variation on the classic Cinderella fairy tale. She has quite some spunk in that film, not at all like the helpless little damsel in distress they make her out to be in other movies." She smiled fondly while staring into space, then rapidly shook her head, saying, "Anyway, that's the only thing I'll really miss."  
A quarter of an hour later he was walking back to his room, thinking about the letter he had seen on Mette's computer. _...his hair is rather oily all the time, also his skin..._ Apparently, this fact disturbed her so much that she had felt the need to write to her friend about it. He wanted to get angry, but was distracted by his recollection of something else in the letter – she wanted to get to know him. Did he want to get to know her? Did he want to be known? The time with Mette had been agreeable so far. Was this a reason to care about her opinion of his appearance?

* * *

Thanks for reading my friends! Don't forget to leave a fave or a review :) Subscribe so you'll never miss a new chapter!


	18. Chapter 18: The Grey Box - part 2

When he had arrived back at his room, he took a proper look at himself in the mirror. His hair hung limp and lank, as it always did. Close to his scalp, its greasiness was most apparent. He ran his fingers through his roots. Definitely oily. What had she written, something about shampoo for greasy hair? Muggle things again. There must be a wizarding solution for these kinds of problems, too. But he would have to go to Diagon Alley for it, and that was not an option. Back to the Muggle solution. _It can't hurt to try_. He summoned Bimky.  
When the house-elf appeared, he said, "I need you to go to a Muggle store and bring me... shampoo for oily hair. And also something for oily skin."  
"What kind of store, sir?" the elf asked.  
"Just try a few and see if they sell soap and such things."  
"Yes, sir."  
Severus grabbed her skinny little arm and said sharply, "Do not dare to breathe a word of this to anyone."  
Bimky said, seemingly undisturbed, "Of course, sir," then vanished with a slight _pop_, leaving his hand grasping at thin air.

That night, he dreamed that he was in the new Potions classroom with Claire. She was showing him around and explaining how they were using special ingredients that she had all personally selected. He recognized none of them. Claire led him through door after door, every single one leading to another extension of the room or a storage cupboard. There seemed to be endless amounts of doors, making the classroom into a labyrinth.

When he awoke the next morning, he was surprised to find a pile of brightly coloured bottles and tubes on his desk. _The Muggle toiletries_. He picked up a dark grey bottle with a yellow cap and a label that read "Grease Control Shampoo". There were other bottles that claimed that their ingredients had similar properties. The labels sported phrases like "Cleansing" and "Extraordinary Oil Control". There were smaller tubes of things called "Facial Scrub" or "Skin Cleansing Gel". Bimky had apparently gotten every single product she could find.  
While he wanted to get trying these products out of the way, he needed to go down to the dungeons to meet Xanimus. They hadn't been working on anything substantial in the past week, since the Healer was going to be absent during the holidays and didn't want to leave his patient alone after just having breached a difficult memory. Most of the things they had done had been about teaching and Severus felt just about fed up with it. His feeling of being locked up in the castle had increased again lately and he needed a change of scenery. He said as much to Xanimus.  
The Healer looked at him, pondering. After a few moments, he seemed to have made up his mind.  
"Right," Xanimus said, "let's go to London."  
"London! You mean Diagon Alley?"  
"Oh, no, it's way too early for that. No, just London, in general. We can walk through the streets and see how being in a crowd works for you. If you can deal with that, a roomful of students should be a piece of cake."  
"We'll attract unwanted attention if we wear these clothes among Muggles."  
"Yes, we need to change. I think if you take off your cloak and wear that beige jacket you got from Ab, you should be fine. I have some Muggle clothes in my bag that I can wear."  
After he had changed, Xanimus looked perfectly Muggle-like. He was even wearing a ridiculous puffy jacket. While he looked silly, the Healer was probably much better prepared for the winter weather; Severus' jacket was rather thin.  
"Maybe we can buy you a decent one," Xanimus said.  
"I think you have forgotten that I don't have any money," Severus said with a hint of snide in his voice.  
"Yes, about that. Minerva told me that your property went to Hogwarts when you died, since you did not leave a will or any heirs. She knows how much it was, of course, and wants to give it back to you. Before she can do that, however, there is some bureaucracy to be taken care of."

They went to the Hog's Head, where Ab admitted them with a grunt. The Healer put a few coins on the bar, whereupon Ab carelessly pointed his wand at a blackened fireplace. Orange flames sprung up inside it. The barman turned back to the sink behind the bar, clattering about with some dishes. He made no sign that he recognized Severus, so the latter didn't adress the barman, either. He was not quite comfortable with the recollection of being naked in front of the old man and having to endure being carried up the stairs. Better not to attract his attention.  
Xanimus said to Severus, "We will go to my office at St. Mungo's. From there, we can just walk around London a bit." The Healer took a pinch of Floo powder out of a small jar on the mantlepiece and stepped into the fireplace. Throwing the powder into the fire, he exclaimed "Xanimus Caedmon's office!" and disappeared in a whirl of flames. Severus followed suit.  
He landed somewhat unsteadily on the thick, cream-coloured carpet of a very pleasant-looking room. Everything in it was coloured in warm shades of off-white and light beige. The furniture was made of light wood. A large plant with airy, feathery leaves filtered the light from the window. All of this gave the office a calm, unobtrusive athmosphere. Even Severus, who was always made uneasy by windows, felt relatively safe in this room. Xanimus was already behind his desk, rummaging in a cupboard on the floor. Severus straightened up and looked around. His eye was caught by a poster with static drawings of people who seemed to be doing very private things.  
Alarmed, but intrigued, Severus checked to make sure that Xanimus's upper half was still inside the small cupboard underneath his desk. Then, he stepped closer to take a better look at the poster.  
As it turned out, the people on the poster were not engaged in unsavoury activities. It was, apparently, a manual on how Muggles were supposed to keep someone alive whose heart had stopped.  
"Why do you have this?" he asked Xanimus.  
The Healer emerged from his cupboard, slightly dusty, and looked to see what Severus meant.  
"Oh, that," he said. "During my training, about twenty years ago, I regularly came across Muggles. Especially in less densely populated countries, there are no tightly-knit wizarding communities like in Britain, so most wizards live in Muggle communities. I enjoyed talking to the Muggles about their approach to Healing. Naturally, a lot of them took me for a doctor. One day, a girl that lived on the same street as the wizard I was staying with came storming at our door, imploring me to come with her to save her brother. I couldn't very well say no, so I went with her.  
"When we came to her house, this little boy lay there, on the floor, his lips blue, his skin like marble. He looked like a doll, so frail, such a small body. I don't know what happened to him. No parent was there.  
"When I saw the little boy, I was sure that he was dead. But I still had to try anything in my power to save him. I knew nothing about Muggle medicine, not really. Having a leisurely chat about it doesn't actually teach you anything. So, I got out my wand and tried some strong healing spells. It worked. The boy had still been alive. I was so relieved and also a little proud of myself, although I knew that using magic in front of Muggles was prohibited.  
"To make sure no word got out, I obliviated the children's memory. At that time though, I hadn't been in training for long, so I wasn't sure whether I had done it properly. That's why I told my mentor about the whole thing. He got so angry at me." Xanimus paused, staring into space for a short moment. "He said that we didn't meddle in Muggle affairs and that I should have let the boy die. One Muggle life was not worth jeopardizing the Statute of Secrecy of our entire world.  
"I felt terrible, and I wasn't even sure which part had been the worst. That I had let down my mentor, or that my mentor saw things in this way. I parted ways with him soon after. I didn't tell my new mentor about any of this. But, secretly, I took first-aid lessons for Muggles. I got that poster at the first one I ever went to. Since then, I go twice a year. If a wizard's life was in danger, a Muggle doctor would help. Of course, they don't know that the person is a wizard, but that's not their fault. I just want to be able to help anyone, wizard or not. I'd like to at least look convincing when I pretend to reanimate someone the Muggle way, while I'm secretly using my wand that I stored up my sleeve," Xanimus finished his story and chuckled quietly.  
Severus didn't know what to say. In his mind, there had always been a barrier between wizards and Muggles. Lately, that barrier got more and more cracks.  
Xanimus dove back into his cupboard and finally extracted something. He put a dark blue canvas rucksack on his desk and took out a black leather wallet, much unlike the coin pouches wizards usually carried. He opened it and checked its contents. "Should be fine," he murmured, put the wallet back and strapped the rucksack onto his shoulders. That, in combination with the puffy jacket, made him look more ridiculous than ever. But he would pass for a Muggle in a second.  
The two men took the hospital's back staircase to get onto the street. Luckily, nurses and doctors were very busy in the mornings and visiting hours hadn't started yet, so no one paid attention to the two of them.  
Once they were outside, Severus asked, "Where are we going?"  
"To the High Street, getting you a jacket."  
Severus stopped walking. "Are you really planning to just walk into a Muggle store? That seems unwise to me."  
"Why? They sell clothes for human beings, which we are. And nobody will care when they see you, or wonder if it really is you and how you came back. They don't even know there was a war, let alone which role you played in it. Believe me, this is much better than going to a wizarding store."  
Severus stood rooted to the spot. But no matter how much he thought about it, he could not think of a retort. What the Healer said made sense. Sighing, he started walking again.  
Xanimus purposefully walked into one of the shops. Shops, in Severus' mind, were supposed to be small, stuffy, and overcrowded with items. Even Ragna's Muggle teashop had been like this. But this clothes shop seemed to have nothing but space. The ceiling was high, there was glass everywhere and the clothes hung on short racks, were neatly stacked on tables or fashionably displayed on faceless mannequins frozen in elegant gestures. Severus felt painfully exposed. He wanted nothing more than to go back to his dark, safe dungeons. What made it worse, everything in here seemed to be for women. Was he supposed to get a woman's jacket? Was the whole Muggle act that Xanimus was displaying in fact terribly misguided - was the Healer wearing women's clothes right now?  
"Men's clothes are upstairs," Xanimus said while walking towards an escalator.  
The moment they had stepped off the escalator, a girl with a plastic badge on a lanyard around her neck walked up to them.  
"Hi there, can I help you find something?" she asked happily.  
_Get rid of her_, Severus thought.  
"Sure, we're looking for a jacket for my friend, to protect him from the harsh London winter," Xanimus chuckled. The girl looked Severus up and down in a business-like manner while tugging on her long brown hair, the tips of which she had dyed an odd greyish-blue for some reason. When she was satisfied, she said, "Over here," and led them towards a part of the shop where all kinds of jackets were hanging. She stopped by a rack filled with the hideous puffy ones.  
"Not those," Severus said. The girl laughed and said, "I like your style. Finally, a skinny guy who doesn't feel compelled to subscribe to the whole hipster thing!"  
Severus did not know what that meant, so he just made a non-committal noise that he hoped might pass for an answer. He was successful, as the girl said,  
"I know, right?" before she went to another rack. "I think this might be more up your alley." She browsed through some grey woollen coats and took one out. She extracted the hanger and handed the coat to Severus, saying, "There's a mirror right there."  
He felt strangely exposed, even though he was putting a piece of clothing on, not taking it off. The coat was too brightly coloured for his taste.  
"Do you have this in black?" he asked. The girl sported a pained expression and said apologetically, "I'm afraid not. Just blue and red. Damn you, hipsters!" That last sentence she uttered while looking at the ceiling and shaking her fist theatrically. Severus started to suspect that "hipsters" were some kind of entities that impaired Muggles' sense for fashion. The girl was still looking at him, her face frozen in that pained, apologetic smile. Severus wanted to get away from the attention, and the coat was as least not puffy.  
"I'll take it," he said. The girl let out an enormous "Phew!" and insisted on sending it to the till for him. She bid them goodbye enthusiastically. The lady at the till eyed the two men suspiciously, especially when Xanimus paid for the coat that Severus took off the counter. As soon as they were outside, Severus made the coat's price tag disappear and exchanged his jacket for it. Xanimus held out the rucksack and Severus stuffed the jacket inside.  
"Where do you want to go next?" the Healer asked.  
"Are there any places worth going?"  
"That depends on what you find interesting. There are all kinds of shops around here. Books, music, films, household items, electronics... Although I don't think we have much use for those." Xanimus laughed. One word had caught Severus' attention.  
"Films," he said slowly. "What kind of films?"  
"All kinds, I suppose. Do you want to go to a shop that has films?"  
"Yes."

* * *

Thank you for reading! Don't forget to leave a fave or a review if you liked it :-) Subscribe so you'll never miss a chapter!


	19. Chapter 19: Christmas - part 1

Two days later, on the last day of school, Claire came strutting into the Great Hall at lunch. She was wearing an emerald green travel cloak and, for some reason, a pair of large sun glasses on top of her head. While Severus tried to eat, she tried her best to invite him to a New Year's Party with "the crème de la crème of the wizarding world". She shouted her arguments of why this party was unmissable across the three disgruntled people that sat between them. She remained unsuccessful, and left the Great Hall pointedly swinging her hips.

When Mette and Severus met in the dungeons after lunch, he insisted that she should do some of the analyses herself. She looked at him with a fearful smile, biting her lower lip.  
"What if I mess up?"  
"I thought you'd done this before?"  
"I've experimented, yes. But not like this! I don't want to spoil your costly ingredients. And won't I need to do magic?"  
"I can carry out all steps requiring a wand, just let me know when you need me. And you can do the test with the quinine, that's inexpensive and easy to come by."  
"Right," Mette exhaled nervously, then asked, "The iron cauldron, I assume?"  
He smiled and nodded. They set to work, each over their own cauldron.  
When they both happened to have a break, Mette said conversationally,  
"I wonder what the Hogwarts Christmas party is like. There are some students staying, aren't there?"  
"Yes. But I thought you had attended last year's party?"  
Mette's eyes widened and she blushed. She stammered, "Um, no, I wasn't... here."  
"You said that you didn't usually go home for Christmas. I assumed that this was true for last year as well. That was your first Christmas at Hogwarts, wasn't it?"  
"Yes. No. I mean, I decided to make a habit of staying here... starting this year." The last part of her sentence was hardly audible. At that moment, a huge bubble grew on the surface of her potion and then popped, emitting a loud bang. Mette jumped and let out a little shriek.  
Severus said calmly, "It's supposed to do that."  
"Oh, okay, good. Because I thought that maybe I had done something wrong and that's why it did that. But if that's normal, then it's okay. I would feel really guilty if I spoiled the ingredients. We've gotten so far in just a few weeks and it would be a real pity now if I mess up one of the final experiments. That would be really silly. But I'm sticking very closely to what you've written. So, it would be weird if something went wrong. That's why I was so startled. Because I thought I'd double-checked everything and was really surprised that something might have gone wrong," she blurted, while looking in turn at the parchment beside her, the contents of her cauldron, the ingredients laid out on the table - anywhere but at him.  
"Calm yourself, the potion is fine," Severus said, not unkindly. Mette laughed and exhaled shakily. "You asked about the Christmas party," Severus continued. "From what I recall, it's fairly standard. Eating, pulling crackers, that sort of thing." He paused. "Speaking of Christmas Eve, I meant to ask you... "  
Now, she did look up, her expression alert.  
"... whether we should plan how to get the taaffeite." He could have sworn her face fell a little. Didn't she want to get the stone anymore? "We could talk about it after the party."  
"Yes, let's do that," she nodded and smiled politely.  
After the experiments were done, they wrote up and discussed the results. By the time they were finished, it was late at night again and both were tired and red-eyed, but pleased with their work. All tests were finished. They could brew the potion - if they managed to get the taaffeite. They talked about the stone while they walked upstairs. Severus only stopped when he realized that he had followed Mette to the castle's main entrance.  
"Where do you live? You always seem to leave the castle," he said.  
"I live at a cottage in Hogsmeade. Minerva was very kind to have it fixed up with electricity and Muggle appliances. Filius helped to make the electricity work." She chuckled. "Sometimes, I really do feel like I'm handicapped around here." She stifled a yawn. "Anyway, I'll see you at breakfast. Good night." With one last smile, she was out of the door.  
"Good night," he said to the door as it fell to, then turned around and went to his own room.

Two days later, the castle had been transformed. It seemed as if it wanted to make the Holidays as festive as possible for the few people who had no better place to be. The dozen students or so who turned up for the Christmas party were in annoyingly high spirits, most of them wearing hideous Christmas sweaters. Mette was wearing one as well, although hers was not hideous at all. It was covered with an intricate pattern of ice crystals and interwoven geometrical shapes on a teal background. The colour made the auburn of her hair shine from within.  
"Hi!" she said while plopping down beside Severus. "It's so nice to not have to fight for a seat next to you these last few days..." she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and gave an embarrassed little laugh. "Don't you look festive!" she added, looking at Severus with a crooked smile.  
Severus, who was wearing his usual clothes, said, "I thought I'd dress up for the occasion."  
Mette blinked at him, then cracked a big smile, saying, "Did you just make a_ joke_? Who are you and what have you done to Severus?" She laughed.  
The party only got better from there. Not even the giggling, screaming, guffawing students could change anything about that. Severus hardly reacted when one of them toppled off the bench, taking two others with her, because someone had conjured a branch of mistletoe over her head. At the height of the feast, he let himself be convinced to pull a cracker with Professor Sprout. He did not put on the crown - that would have been going too far. At some point, he caught Minerva's eye. She was smiling at him in a most peculiar manner.  
By eight o'clock, all dirty dishes and the last crumbs of pudding had disappeared. Everyone was talking and laughing. The students started trickling off, which prompted Hagrid to take a large, dusty bottle of ruby-coloured wine out of one of his many pockets.  
"Brewed it meself," he boomed proudly while offering everyone a glass. Most teachers politely declined, only the Headmistress was brave enough to try some. When she swallowed her first sip, she pressed her lips together and held her hand before her mouth. Luckily, Hagrid didn't see the expression on her face. She made half the contents of her glass vanish with her wand while Hagrid wasn't looking. Whenever he offered her a refill, she gestured at her half-full glass, smiling and shaking her head.  
Severus was starting to get nervous. It was time to go downstairs. He gently touched Mette's arm, who was talking to another professor. She turned to him. He said, "Whenever you're ready."  
"We can go right now." She stood up.  
They excused themselves and left the Great Hall. While they were walking, Mette was chattering happily.  
"That was so nice! I know I'm not a wizard, but in times like these I really feel like I belong here after all."  
"Of course you do," Severus said. "Why wouldn't you?"  
"Well..." she hesitated. "Not everybody thinks so..."  
"Claire?" he offered.  
"Yes," she said with resignation in her voice, "How do you know that?"  
"She made some remarks."  
Mette nodded slowly. She folded her arms across her chest, saying, "I always thought that she's been especially snide with me, dropping little hints about my lack of magical powers. But ever since- last term I feel like she's really out to get me. I'm probably taking it too personally, though." She shrugged.  
They had arrived at the door to his office. With a pounding heart, Severus pushed the door open. When Mette stepped over the threshold, she gasped.  
"What..." She looked around, her mouth open. Her eyes wandered from a white screen that hung from the ceiling to the comfortable-looking couch that had replaced the desk and chairs, and eventually to a projector at the back of the room. She slowly shook her head, gaping, before she finally managed to ask, "What is all this?"  
Severus smiled and said, "Take a seat, then you'll see."  
He went to the projector and checked for the tenth time that everything was set up properly. He sat down next to Mette. She looked at him with round eyes and a big, quizzical smile. Leaning over the back of the couch, he pointed his wand at the projector. It started whirring and a picture appeared on the screen. At the same time, a piano melody sounded from the speaker.  
Mette laughed and stammered, "That's... the Cinderella film I told you about! How... where...?"  
Severus said, "I found it in London. Unfortunately, I could only get the German version with English subtitles."  
"I don't care, I know it by heart anyway. This is amazing, thank you so much! I don't know what to say." She smiled at him and didn't look away for a long time. He felt the heat creep into his face and quickly said, "Enjoy the film."  
"You too." She finally turned towards the screen.  
They watched together in silence. Mette smiled the entire time and chuckled every now and then. The film was actually not bad. The evil stepmother and stepsister were entertainingly vain and ugly, Cinderella used every opportunity to take matters into her own hands and there were even some endearingly naive allusions to magic, all accompanied by a pleasant musical score.  
Severus enjoyed himself so much, the thought that the film would end filled him with melancholy. But the moment inevitably came when Mette stretched and sighed, saying, "It always ends too soon!" Severus stopped the projector with a wave of his wand. The whirring ceased.  
They were sitting opposite each other, and for a moment, no one spoke. Then, Mette said, "Thank you so much for... all of this." She gestured at the room. Then she smiled and looked at him for too long again.  
Severus broke the renewed silence by saying, "I hope you enjoyed yourself despite the wrong language."  
"Are you kidding? This was the best. Plus, German and Norwegian are related. I understood one word every five minutes or so." She chuckled. "How did you even get it to play on that old thing?" She turned to look at the projector.  
"I needed some help, to be honest. Xanimus lent me a... Muggle tape playing device-  
"A VHS player."  
"-Yes. And I managed to find a magazine called 'Muggle Artefact Enthusiast' that detailed how to wire it to a projector. And, of course, Filius helped with the electricity."  
Mette slowly shook her head, saying "Wow, you went to a lot of trouble."  
"It was worth it, I think."  
"Definitely!... Well, I guess I should get going," Mette said, but she didn't get up. He tried to think of something to say to prolong the conversation, but nothing came to mind. Instead, he just lamely said, "Alright."  
They got up and he walked her the three steps to his door. They stood in the corridor, Mette looking at her feet. Suddenly, she made a step forward and hugged him. She let go before he could unfreeze his mind and decide how to react. She looked into his face for a split-second, then murmured, "Thanks again. I had a great evening."  
"Me too," he said.  
Mette turned abruptly and started walking away, humming the tune from the film, when he had a thought.  
"Mette," he called after her. She didn't seem to have heard him. Should he shout louder or run after her? Both felt too dramatic. He compromised on a quick walk and repeating her name slightly louder. Now, she did wheel around, smiling at him and raising her eyebrows expectantly. He said, "I was thinking of moving back into my old quarters in the next few days. Would you like to help?"  
She smiled crookedly and asked, "Can we order pizza after?"  
"What?"  
"Oh, I guess only Muggles do that. But yes, I'd be happy to help!"  
"Tomorrow after breakfast?"  
"It's a date!"  
Her words echoed in his mind for a long time after he had returned his office to its normal state. He went to bed feeling absolutely wonderful.

* * *

A/N: Wasn't that just so fluffy! I thoroughly enjoyed writing this chapter *v* Do stay tuned because some serious sh1t is going to go down next time! Leave a review or a fave if you liked it and don't forget to subscribe.


	20. Chapter 20: Christmas, part 2

After breakfast, he and Mette set off to start his move. At first, Severus levitated larger items while Mette carried stacks of books and drawers, including their contents, which she had pulled out of his cupboard. Then, they started to come up with more creative ways to get things downstairs. Severus shrank the furniture or made it hollow by magic. He even gave the table the ability to walk by itself on its four legs. The day passed rapidly and at the end of it, his old quarters were fit to live in again.  
"This place really misses something, though," Mette said while they stood in the middle of the bedroom. Severus looked at her blankly. "Windows!" she said with an air as if nothing could be more obvious.  
"We're underground," Severus pointed out.  
Mette gave him a sarcastic look. "Are you a wizard or what?"  
Severus hesitated. He still liked being enveloped in darkness if he wanted to. Then again, the windows would not be real and he could make them disappear if they made him feel uneasy. He pointed his wand at one of the walls and muttered an incantation. A tiny spot appeared, only a little brighter than the grey stone walls around it. It started expanding, shaping itself into an arched window with stone crossbars. Through it, the lake and the distant mountains could be seen, all covered in the purple light of dusk. He turned to Mette to ask her how she liked it. He was surprised at how close she suddenly stood to him. His fingers almost brushed the back of her hand. He asked, nodding at the window, "Is this enough?"  
"I think one more can't hurt."  
Severus dutifully repeated the incantation and another window bloomed next to the first.  
"This looks great. Thank you for indulging me," Mette said. She chuckled nervously. "Um, by the way, do you have any plans for New Year's Eve?"  
"No. Why do you ask?"  
"Maybe we could go somewhere?"  
"In Hogsmeade?"  
"No," she said while looking at the floor, "I thought more like... somewhere else. Some Muggle place."  
"What would we do there?"  
"Oh, nothing much, just eat and talk..."  
"I'd like that."  
She laughed and said, "Great! That's... great! I know a good place not too far away." She was bouncing on her toes.  
"It's a date," Severus said, smiling.

On Boxing Day morning, Severus awoke with a start. Over the past few days, he had completely forgotten that he was supposed to prepare lessons. He wondered how this could have happened, he was usually a meticulous worker. Even more alarmingly, he was tempted to put it off a little longer when Mette asked him at breakfast whether he wanted to spend some time together that day. But he pulled himself together and told her that he was previously occupied. "Oh, right, I'd almost forgotten!" she said. "That's fine, I'll see you at lunch then." Her smile had a somewhat forced quality.  
Luckily, Potions never failed to engross Severus completely. As he worked on the lesson plans, he soon forgot the world, and the passing of time became unimportant. He felt a deep satisfaction to be straightening out the muddled mess that the subject of Potions had doubtlessly become under Claire's hands.

Nonetheless, when New Year's Eve arrived, he awoke and immediately thought of his evening plans with Mette. The idea of finally having time to really talk to her again sent a prickling wave of adrenaline through his body. How silly! After all, he was talking to Mette all the time during meals in the Great Hall.  
The pub Mette had selected was in a small village at the foot of the mountains. They travelled as close to the village as they could using the Floo network and then took a cab from there. Severus was wearing his Muggle winter coat again and did his best to blend in. It seemed to work, for the cab driver did not even look at him funny. Neither did the people at the pub.  
The table that had been reserved for them was in a cosy nook, just big enough for two. It was strange, sitting opposite her without a cauldron between them. Although it made him nervous, he didn't want to be anywhere else right now. Mette smiled at him, looking him in the eyes only for an instant, and tucked a strand of her chin-length hair behind her ear. They were spared the awkwardness of having to find a conversation topic just yet by a waitress handing them the menus. They sat in silence while they read them. When they had ordered, Mette was the one to break the silence, saying,  
"It's a bit unusual, I can't really ask you anything about you or your life, since you know probably not much more about it than I do."  
"That is true," Severus answered. "You could tell me something, though."  
"Okay... what do you want to know?"  
Severus considered this for a moment, then asked, "Did you ever resent being a Squib?"  
"Oh wow, you just go straight to the point," Mette laughed. "Well, yes and no. I don't mind it so much, personally. My parents minded it a lot, though. They really hoped that I might have magical powers. I don't know how they thought this would happen, seeing as they are both Squibs." Mette shook her head. "Anyway, they always gave me a feeling that I could do magic if I just tried harder. And I did try, very hard, for a long time. But when I hit puberty I just thought, fuck it, and stopped trying. So, I didn't resent being a Squib so much as I resented my parents resenting it. Does that make sense?"  
Severus nodded. "You went to Muggle school then?"  
"Yes. In the beginning, my parents also had me participate in magical training for young witches and wizards, but of course that didn't work. So yes, I just went to Muggle school." She suddenly gave a little laugh and said, "I just remembered something really random from that time."  
Severus looked at her expectantly.  
She explained, "I had a friend in primary school, a girl, who really wanted a short haircut. Her mother wouldn't let her get one, so she had the glorious idea to ask me to cut her hair. And I did, with a pair of those little children's scissors, at a girl's bathroom after school. She was absolutely thrilled, even though I'm sure it looked horrible. When her hair had grown back out, I cut it again. We did this for several years. Her mother was livid at first, but then she accepted it. She never asked who cut her hair, though. So strange! She probably thought her daughter cut it herself, it must have looked that way. Anyway, after a year or so, I had gotten good enough to try some actual styles. So yeah, I became a hairdresser with extremely limited skills at the age of ten," She paused and frowned, saying, "Actually, this girl was the one with whom I discovered my gift."  
"Discovered... how do you mean?"  
"We had to do a dance at school, during Music lessons, and I held both her hands with mine. That's when, out of the blue, I suddenly felt very angry. Just as quickly, the feeling was gone. It all happened so fast, I had no idea what was going on. Only when it started happening more often did I realize that it had something to do with touching people."  
"Judging by what you told me before, you do seem to know this gift of yours rather well. How did you manage to find out about the details?"  
"I used my cousin as a guinea pig. He's a wizard so I could tell him what it was all about. He is also a very level-headed person with very level-headed parents, so the emotions I experienced when I touched him were comparably mild. That's why I could use my gift on him quite often." She smiled fondly.  
Something stirred within Severus, something he didn't quite like.  
"Okay!" Mette exclaimed, "I really do want to stop talking about myself, it feels wrong to get all the speaking time. I'd love to know more about you, but I don't want to trigger any bad memories... Do you think I could ask you some very general questions?"  
_This is probably a bad idea_. But he was tempted. It would be nice to discover memories together with Mette. He said, "Just steer clear of the wizarding wars. Then I think it will be fine." Mette smiled cheerfully. At that moment, their food arrived and they ate in silence for a while. She seemed to mull over questions that would be safe. Finally, she asked, "Do you have any family that you remember?"  
Severus shook his head, saying, "I do know that my parents are dead. I don't know how they died, but I think it must have been around the time I was of age. I was never in anyone else's care, as far as I remember. And I don't think I had any other family."  
"I'm sorry to hear that."  
Severus shrugged. "I have a feeling that we didn't get along, my parents and I. When I think about them being dead, no emotions come up."  
Mette didn't seem to want to press the matter further, for she now asked, "Did you go to a Muggle primary school? In Norway, most wizard children are home-schooled, because the country is so big and sparsely populated. How is that done in Britain?"  
"Some children go to Muggle schools, I think. I didn't, though." A memory made its way through to his consciousness. An imposing figure, towering over him, threatening him. But he had stood his ground. "My father used to test me. He... I think he wanted me to fail his tests. But I didn't." More images floated up from the depths of his mind. A large, bright room, a big table and bookshelves all around. "The library," Severus murmured. Mette was looking at him intently, her fork suspended halfway between her mouth and her plate. He tried to get at the memory's substance. Frowning with concentration, he said, "I seem to have gone to a library a lot. It must have been a Muggle place, there were electric lights. I was there alone. I liked it there."  
"Are you saying you educated yourself? And your father tested you? Why would he want you to fail?"  
"I'm not sure. I just did my best to stay ahead of him."  
"It sounds like maybe he wasn't a great person." Severus could not make a reply, for he had no idea. Once again, he remembered general facts and emotions, but not concrete situations. He sighed and shrugged.  
Mette gave him an apologetic smile, saying, "Sorry for boring into you like that. It seems I manage to dig up all the wrong memories." After a bit of silent eating, she tried another subject. "Wizards sometimes have such sophisticated, classical names. My cousin, the one I told you about, his name is Ågmunder, which is old Norse. His mother is called Aldrif. And then here, you have Minerva, Septima, and Filius."  
"And Severus," Severus offered.  
"Yes," Mette smiled, "Severus..." She said his name as if trying out the sound of it. He liked hearing his name in her voice, it sounded affectionate.  
She said, "It sounds so strict, though. Sharp, kind of. You could go by a nickname. If you just take the first syllable, it actually sounds much softer. Sev..."  
Her mouth was still moving but Severus had gone deaf. His field of vision shrank rapidly until there was only her face left, talking, but unheard. He fell, fell into a deep black void from which no escape was possible. Someone screamed at the top of their lungs. They were screaming a name, over and over. "Lily!"

* * *

Thanks so much for reading again! Leave a fave or a review if you enjoyed this chapter :) Subscribe so you'll never miss a new one.


	21. Chapter 21:Back to where you started-pt1

He saw.  
He heard.  
Nothing meant anything.  
Nothing could alleviate the pain.  
The pain was not caused by the thin plastic tube they had stuck into a vein on the back of his hand. It had nothing to do with the bandage around his head. Not even with the metal rods they had drilled into his bones and that were sticking out of his skin. The pain came from a place that nothing and no one could touch. It was screaming inside him, filling everything he had, replacing all that he was.  
He did not flinch when the Muggle doctors stuck needles into his skin. He did not answer any of their questions. He did not eat and he did not sleep if he could help it.  
He had to stay awake for the memories, all of them. They were there as if they had never been gone. All he could bear to do was exist. But that would stop soon as well. Knowing this was his only solace.  
The Muggles tried to keep him from dying. When he didn't touch his food, they tried to shove a tube down his throat. It was the only time his body showed a reaction to them. His jaw clenched shut, and his skin turned too tough for their needles to penetrate.  
Other doctors came and took him away to another hospital, one without machines. They took out the tubes and metal rods and mended everything in an instant. These doctors were more cunning than the Muggles. They had other ways to force his body to live, ways that could bypass his resistance.  
So he lived on, day in, day out. He was a vessel for his memories, the servant that kept them alive, the slave who suffered under their burden.  
A flicker of recognition. Someone sat by his bed. He knew her. A faint stirring in his mind told him that this person was significant. Her presence meant that there was hope.  
How foolish.  
Of course, she did not matter.  
No one did. Only Lily.

Lily. He had killed her with his words and deeds. Everything that had come after had been in vain. He had lived the rest of his life for the sole purpose of making amends, while knowing that what he had done was irredeemable. Death had come as a release. But then, some cruel force had thrown him back onto this earth. His suffering had not been enough, would never be enough. He finally understood that that's why he was here. To be forever punished. He surrendered.

People came and went. They talked. He heard them, but the meaning of their words did not reach him. Days went by like hours, hours like minutes. His eyes were always open. He saw the sun go down and come up. He saw the moon and the stars travel the night sky. It meant nothing.  
One day, a visitor came who was different from the others. So much so that Severus noticed him through his stupor. The visitor walked on hooves instead of feet, but had a chest, arms and face almost like a man's. He approached Severus and held out his large hand. He spoke. Severus kept staring into the abyss of his past life. The centaur left.  
He came back and repeated the same actions, holding out his hand and speaking.  
Day after day, his strange visitor came. One day, Severus allowed his gaze to fall upon the centaur's palm. A pebble lay on it. He hadn't meant to look at it, it had been an accident. But it didn't matter. The pebble was nothing to him.  
The centaur got more persistent, stayed longer, talked in a louder voice. One word finally managed to penetrate Severus' prison of memories: "Evans". He looked up at the centaur's moving lips, which seemed to repeat the same words over and over. Severus lost interest.  
The centaur came back, reciting his unchanging verse. The word "Evans" once again got through to what little was left of Severus' consciousness. He tried to fight it, but now he had heard the word, he couldn't shut his mind to it.  
A while later, another word attached itself to it: "You".  
The more often the centaur returned and repeated the words, the more of them ate their way through to Severus. "You must... Lily Evans. You must..."  
Lily Evans had been his friend, his only solace. He had destroyed their friendship and she had turned into Lily Potter, his lost love. Finally, he had killed her. Out of ignorance and misguided zeal.  
The centaur kept coming and speaking the words. "You must... and speak to Lily Evans."  
Speak to? Speak to Lily?  
A wave of grief rolled through him and finally cracked his mind open, letting the centaur's words pour in.  
"You must take the Resurrection Stone and speak to Lily Evans."  
Severus opened his mouth to speak for the first time in weeks, his voice coarse with disuse and choked by grief.  
"Speak to Lily? How?"  
The centaur's eyes widened. "Take it," he said as he nodded at the pebble on his palm, "and turn it thrice over in your hand."  
Severus stared at the stone. It was small and unremarkable, yet it posed the cruellest temptation.  
"No." Severus shook his head. "No!" he snarled. "Take it away!"  
The centaur left him, but only for the day. He repeated his offer morning after merciless morning. He would not let Severus shut down his consciousness again. He had cracked him open and kept hacking into the gaping wound.  
One day, the centaur diverged from his perpetual verse. "You must have courage," he urged, thrusting the hand holding the stone towards Severus. "Take it! I did not know you as a coward."  
Severus' pulse quickened at the centaur's last word. "Don't-" he said.  
"Then you must take it," the centaur insisted.  
Severus raised his hand. He closed his stiff fingers around the pebble, took it from the centaur's palm and turned it three times in his own hand.  
The veil between the worlds was lifted. A pearly white figure appeared at Severus' bedside. The apparition touched his warm, living hand with hers; white, transparent, and without substance. A sob escaped him.  
"Sev," said Lily. "I am happy to see you once more."  
"Take me with you," he pleaded.  
"I can't. You belong with the living."  
"No. I don't." His eyes shut tightly, his lips drew back from his teeth. "Why am I here?" he sobbed, "Why did I have to come back?"  
"You have been given another life because your past life was twisted and cruel. Fate threw you into arduous circumstances and your struggles to escape them were in vain. This new life is meant for you to live, unenslaved."  
"There can't be a life for me without you."  
"Severus..." she raised her hand as if to touch his face. He wanted to put his hand on hers, press it against his cheek, but grasped only at air. "You need to let me be in this world, where I belong. Be with the people in your life, give them a chance to see the real Severus - the boy who was my best friend. Be this boy for someone who can share joy with you. Don't waste your life loving the dead."  
"I don't want anyone else. I will never stop loving you."  
"You don't have to. I will be with you as long as you carry me in your heart. The more people you love, the purer and more beautiful your love becomes."  
"I only want to love you. Please come back to me. Please."  
"If you truly love me, you need to take this chance that has been given to you. Be brave once again. Live your life and seek happiness." Her voice was fading, as was her image.  
"No, Lily, don't go!"  
"I am never far from you, Sev." The last word hard hardly left her lips when her translucent shape vanished forever.  
He fell backwards into his pillow, the stone rolling out of his limp hand. He turned onto his side and started sobbing uncontrollably. The wound was ripped open, the pain as fresh as the day she died.

He could not go back. He was awake, pain searing every fiber of his being. He repeated her words in his mind, over and over. It was the only thing that kept him from falling into insanity. _Live your life and seek happiness... I am never far from you_. How could he seek happiness in a life without Lily?_ If you truly love me, you need to take this chance._ He had no choice. He needed to prove his love for her, which meant staying fully conscious and trying to live as best he could.  
He had started eating voluntarily again, tiny bites of every dish they brought him. Sleep, however, still had to take him by force. He needed to stay awake to control the rush of memories, lest they took his sanity.  
The centaur, who he now remembered was called Firenze, had taken the Resurrection Stone away and had told him never to ask for it. Severus knew that he would not be able to heed this request for long.

On the fourth day after talking to Lily, a person he knew entered his room.  
"I'm glad to see you're back," Xanimus said. Severus nodded, unsmiling. The Healer sat by his bedside and didn't speak for a while. Eventually, he said, "You obviously won't need my assistance anymore in regaining your memories. But I can help you come to terms with them."  
How could Xanimus hope to understand the abyss inside Severus? All Xanimus had were words and calming potions. No magic could alleviate the pain Severus felt. And yet, Lily had asked him to seek happiness. He needed to make the effort, although he knew it would be in vain. He had to prove his love. Maybe then she would take him with her.  
"We can try," Severus said, after much hesitation.

* * *

Thanks for reading my friends! Don't forget to leave a fave or a review :) Subscribe so you'll never miss a new chapter!


	22. Chapter 22:Back to Where You Started-pt2

"You remember everything now?" Xanimus asked when they started their first of what he called 'sessions'.  
"I think so."  
"I suggest you tell me about it. We should start with your earliest memories and work forward from there. It will help us understand how your life came to be what it was. Do you feel ready to do that?"  
"Yes," Severus said with a hollow voice. His memories continually flickered past his inner eye as a never-ending stream of images and short scenes. Not letting himself be washed away took all the strength he could muster. If he was to tell the Healer everything, he needed to keep a clear mind and stay detached from the emotions the memories brought.  
"Good," said Xanimus with a kind smile. "We should begin with your childhood. Could you tell me what your family life was like?"  
Severus told him, always trying to get the words out while staying aloof. No feelings, only words.  
He told the Healer how his father only ever seemed to resent his very existence. How he overheard his father shout at his mother countless times that 'the boy' was trying to take her away from him, that she was spending too much time and effort on him. How his father had insisted that they not spend any money for 'the boy'; that he would have to eat from his mother's plate and wear his parent's old clothes. How, during school holidays, his father had kicked him out of the house in the morning and only allowed him back late in the evening.  
He told Xanimus that the first time he had ever felt accepted was when he finally met another child with magical abilities. That Lily had become his first and only source of happiness. How she had been a light in the darkness.  
He talked about how wonderful the future had seemed when he received his letter for Hogwarts and how he had assumed that he and Lily would be together there, maybe even in the same house, inseparable. How, on his very first train ride to school, James Potter had laid eyes on him and instantly decided that he was not worthy to even be alive; perfectly echoing what Severus' father kept saying. How James Potter had, from that moment, made it his life's ambition to convince Lily to abandon him.  
Staying level-head became increasingly harder while he talked, but Severus kept in control.  
He told Xanimus how James had succeeded, in almost unrecognizable increments, to coax Lily away. She had hated James, yes. But she had started to resent Severus too. He talked about how he had capitulated to being an outcast and had sought the company of other social pariahs, just to feel a little bit of that acceptance that James seemed to get endless amounts of.  
"And then, one day... we were taking an O.W.L. exam," Severus said. "I went outside afterwards, alone. I was lost in thought, I think. I came too close to them and— they started calling out to me. Calling me names. Potter and his cronies. They disarmed me and used a spell on me, one I had invented myself, dangling me in the air upside down." He did not look at the Healer. Xanimus did not need to know every detail of that day, did he? "Then, Lily came. She told them to leave me alone. I was so embarassed that—" His resistance to his emotions started to crumble. He breathed deeply and steadied himself, locking his feelings away once again. He told the Healer what had happened. What he had said. "I called her 'Mudblood'," he whispered. "That's when everything broke."  
All the while, Xanimus was listening and taking notes, not betraying any emotions or opinions about the things Severus told him. Now, he asked, "What did you do afterwards?"  
"I was horrified by what I had said. I tried to talk to her, to apologize, to explain. For weeks. But she would not accept my apology."  
"Why not?"  
"She said she had made allowances for me for years. The way I behaved, the people I called my friends... she was right. And I wanted to change, I would have done anything. Anything," he repeated in a whisper. "But it was too late." Again, his control over himself was slipping. He remembered what he had decided back then, and it helped him pull himself together now. He said, his voice hard, "I realized then that it was no use. That no matter how much I loved, I would never be loved back. No matter how deeply sorry I was, I would never be forgiven. No matter how hard I tried, I could never do right. That was when I stopped trying to do right and instead did the thing that made me feel in control."  
"You became a Death Eater," Xanimus said.  
"Yes. And I wanted revenge. Revenge on those who I felt had stolen my only chance at happiness. I didn't care what would happen to James Potter, I wished death upon him. But then—" He felt his face almost contort. He clenched his jaw to become master over himself once more.  
"But then," Xanimus continued for him, "Lily also died."  
Severus nodded, his hand now covering his mouth, his eyes closed.  
"Did you care about the child? That he would die, too?"  
Severus shook his head.  
"Did it not play a role that he was part of Lily?"  
"No," Severus whispered. "To me, the boy was James' eternal reminder that he had won. He had taken her and made her his forever. The child had her eyes. Her eyes in James Potter's face... It was the ultimate proof that I would never experience love."  
"When you were at Hogwarts, you taught Harry Potter, didn't you? How did you feel about him then?"  
"I hated him. I knew I shouldn't have. But I could not control it. Whenever I saw him, the hatred took over. When I was alone, I knew that he was Lily's and that I owed it to her to treat him well. But when he was there, all James, I could feel nothing but resentment."  
"Who was that hatred directed at?"  
Annoyed, Severus looked up. What had Xanimus still not understood? He said, "At James Potter. I just told you that."  
"James was dead and his son had never really known him. You must have known that, apart from his appearance, Harry could not have absorbed much from his father. Why did you assume that Harry could be anything like James? And why did you not think that he might be like his mother?"  
Severus groaned and tore at his hair. "None of this mattered! He wasn't even supposed to be there! If James hadn't convinced Lily to be with him, the boy wouldn't even have existed!"  
"So, you blamed Harry Potter for existing. Does that remind you of something?"  
Severus opened and closed his mouth a few times, but nothing came out.  
"And why," Xanimus continued, "do you think Lily got together with James? From what you told me, she seemed to dislike him quite a lot during most of your time at Hogwarts."  
Severus knew the answer to this question. He didn't want it to be true, but he knew that it was. With an expressionless voice, he said,  
"After the day of the exam, she started seeing his point. They bonded over their animosity of me." He buried his face in his hands again. Here came the rage. It rose from his stomach to his chest, spread from his heart to his brain. He slapped his hands to his thighs. Livid, he shouted at the Healer, "I KNOW, ALRIGHT? I KNOW IT WAS ALL ME, I KNOW I BROUGHT ALL OF THIS ON MYSELF AND ON EVERYBODY ELSE! I KNOW! BUT IT WAS TOO LATE THEN!" He took a few heaving breaths. His anger was making way for something more devastating. "It was too late!" he repeated. "When I realized what I was doing – what I had done – she was gone. It was too late. It _is_ too late." After a moment, he whispered, "I don't know why I'm here, back alive."  
Into the ensuing silence, Xanimus said, "I don't think it's too late for you."  
Severus looked up at him, his anger threatening to rise again. "For me?!" he scoffed. "I don't care about that! I was talking about her!"  
Xanimus exhaled. "But this, all of this," he gestured at Severus, "is about no one else but you. You need to find a way to overcome your trauma."  
Severus stared at the Healer. How could he be so dim? "The only way I can overcome it is by giving my own life to save that of others."  
"You've already done that. But here you are again, still riddled with guilt. Death was not the answer."  
Words failed Severus.  
"Look," Xanimus said, "your deeds are in the past, you cannot make them undone. You've tried to restore the balance by living your life solely for the sake of the cause. Yet, apparently, there is something else you need to do, something you were sent back here for.  
"Maybe this time, you need to try another approach. You don't need to give up your own life to redeem yourself. Dying is not the only way to make amends. Instead, you can learn from your mistakes and try to live your life as well as you can, bringing joy to others – and, ultimately, yourself."  
"Lily said something like that too," Severus murmured.  
"Excuse me?"  
"Lily, she... was here."  
Xanimus frowned. "What do you mean? In a dream?"  
"No..." Severus told Xanimus about the Resurrection Stone.  
The Healer listened with wide eyes. "Is that how you woke from your stupor?" he asked.  
Severus nodded.  
"What else did she say?"  
"Something about love. That I could love someone else without having to stop loving her."  
"There is someone you indeed need to learn to love, above anyone else."  
For a confused moment, Severus thought the Healer was going to ask him to love Harry Potter. Or, worse, James.  
But Xanimus said, "Yourself."  
The Healer took his leave soon after this, announcing that he'd be back the next day. Before he left, he said, "By the way, Mette was here a number of times. She stopped coming after a while because she was afraid that her constantly being here was pressuring you."

That night, Severus tossed and turned in his bed during his brief spell of sleep, haunted, half awake and half dreaming of Lily telling him he needed to learn how to love himself. _I can't._ The words echoed in his brain.

Xanimus kept asking Severus to dive deeper, to remember more, and to attach emotions to those memories. Severus was no longer allowed to distance himself from his feelings. He had to 'explore' them, as Xanimus insisted. Severus hated it, losing control over himself in front of someone he really didn't know all that well. He tried to keep it together, but Xanimus knew how to coax out his emotions. It was agonizing. Even though the sessions only lasted for about an hour, Severus was entirely tapped out for the rest of the day.  
With every passing day, Severus wished more that he could go back to a state of ignorance. Again and again, the Healer forced him to stare his guilt in the face. Again and again, he had to revisit the terrible decisions he had made and the fact that it could not be undone. Every night, his dreams revolved around the lives he had ended and those he had made miserable. Not sleeping was not a solution anymore, for his waking thoughts were the same as his dreams.  
One day, after about a week of treatment, Severus couldn't take it anymore. "I wish I was still dead. I should be," he said.  
Xanimus answered, "But you are alive. And you deserve to be. You do," Xanimus insisted when he saw the exasperated look on Severus' face. "However, only if you stop running away from your past do you have a chance of overcoming your demons. Understanding your life and realizing how it made you the person you were – the person you are – will help you become the person you long to be."  
Severus had no idea who he 'longed to be'. nothing good could be underneath all this bitterness. Every day was harder than the last, demanded more willpower. Xanimus could not possibly fathom the depth of Severus' pain and hopelessness. The Healer was a fool to think that he could help Severus change.  
There had to be another way, one where he wouldn't have to face his demons every bloody day, one that would allow a certain amount of forgetting.

"I don't want to do the sessions anymore," he said when Xanimus came to his room the next day. "I don't have the strength for it. I want to try to come to terms with my memories in my own way, at my own pace."  
Xanimus said, "The treatment will only work if you want to do it. Let me just say this: Even though it feels very hard right now, this is the safest and probably also the fastest way."  
"It doesn't feel like there is any change at all. If anything, it's getting worse. You can't know what's right for me. I want to do this myself."  
Xanimus exhaled. "Are you sure you don't want to continue the sessions with me?"  
Severus nodded.  
"In that case, they will discharge you from the hospital. You will need to go back to Hogwarts."  
"Fine," Severus muttered. Xanimus tried gently to convince him to carry on, offering to have the sessions less frequently or to do it elsewhere, not at St. Mungo's. But to no avail.  
Before he left, Xanimus said, "I can be there when you want me to. Just say the word." He turned and walked through the door, not seeing how Severus shook his head.

* * *

**A/N:** As always, thanks for reading! Don't forget to leave a fave or a review :) Subscribe so you'll never miss a new chapter!


	23. Chapter 23: A New Beginning - part 1

Severus sat in Minerva's office after returning to Hogwarts. It was no surprise when she told him that he would not be teaching after all. She, too, tried to convince him to keep working with Xanimus, or even another healer, as long as he worked on his situation at all. She was understanding and amiable at first but her voice grew strained when he kept resisting her. In fact, her attempts to make him go back to the sessions only reinforced his decision not to. The endless need to justify himself in front of absolutely everyone drove him crazy.  
In the end, Minerva almost snapped, "In that case, you will need to do some service to the school, otherwise you can't live here. You will help Claire prepare her lessons and answer any and all of her questions."  
Severus nodded grudgingly. Minerva had been much nicer to him when he had first woken up in the hospital wing.  
When he entered his living quarters in the dungeons, he remembered with a pang how he and Mette had furnished it. It was ridiculous to think that only a month ago, he had started to strike up a friendship with her. Soon enough, she would learn about what he had done, one way or another. Xanimus had probably talked about him with other healers and nurses. From there, word would trickle through the wizarding world and soon also reach Hogwarts. Or maybe Minerva would feel the need to be honest about the reason for his month-long absence and tell the staff everything. Did she even know everything? He wished he had never confided in anyone.  
Once people knew that he was responsible for the death of the Potters, any decent person would be right to avoid him. But he would not give Mette the chance of reproaching him. He could not bear her animosity on top of everything else. He knew that his actions were unjustifiable, so why torture himself by letting her judge him?

As much as he rather wanted to be alone, he would need to keep up appearances, pretend like everything was normal in front of the students. Therefore, he went to dinner the day after his return to Hogwarts. He was about to close the side door to the Great Hall behind him, when who would appear but Mette. He sharply took in his breath. She smiled at him with one corner of her mouth and said, "Welcome back." She made every sign of wanting to say more, but apparently thought better of it. The smile that had appeared on his face so readily whenever he had seen her before would not manifest itself. Where there had been sympathy and understanding, now there was nothing.  
When he didn't move, she walked past him, her lips pressed together. Severus allowed a moment to pass so she could find a seat. He took a chair several places away from her.  
Soon after he had started picking at his dinner, Claire sat down next to him, quietly and inconspicuously. She probably didn't want him to notice her. Could she already know? _At least she will leave me alone now_. Much to his surprise, however, Claire turned sideways to face him and gently said, "I'm so glad you're back. I think it's good you're out of the hospital."  
Her change of attitude was so unexpected that Severus looked up.  
She tilted her head and said, "I bet everyone is trying to make you 'talk about it', right? I know how that feels. It's the last thing one needs in such a situation. You need to protect yourself from those people, they'll drive you out of your mind! If you just want some company, I can be very comforting. I'm giving you a No-Pestering-Guarantee." With a wink, Claire turned back towards the table and started on her dinner.  
Severus pushed his food around on his plate for a while and then got up to leave. In his peripheral vision he saw that Mette also got up; rather suddenly, it seemed. She caught up with him in the anteroom. He would not give her a chance to tell him what she thought of him now.  
"Hi," was all Severus gave her time to say. He started walking at a fast pace without answering. She followed, striding alongside him and saying, "Um, I was wondering whether maybe you wanted to meet up again soon?"  
"Why?" he asked while quickening his steps. She matched his pace, now almost jogging.  
"Just... maybe to talk a little? If you want?"  
"About what?"  
"The old lady died," she said abruptly. "The one who I think has the taaffeite. Her belongings are being auctioned next week."  
"Then you can go to the auction and get the stone." Severus walked faster yet, just keeping himself from breaking into a run. But Mette would not be shaken off.  
"Um, the thing is, the auction is being held at Borgin and Burkes. I don't feel comfortable going there by myself. I know that now is a really bad time for you." She took a few quick breaths. "But maybe you'd like some distraction? I don't want to ask anyone else, because I don't want to explain my situation to anyone. Please, will you come with me?"  
So, she was suspending her judgement until she didn't need his services anymore. He hadn't taken her to be that calculating. "I can't," he said. "You need to find someone else or go by yourself."  
Mette finally stopped. He didn't turn around, but kept walking swiftly until he was at his quarters. _Am I being unfair?_ No, he needed to protect himself.

The next day, he buried himself in work, finishing the lesson plans that had now been lying on his desk untouched for a month. He had no idea when he would be helping Claire, or what kind of help she even needed, but he had to keep himself busy. Deeply submerged in work was where he found freedom.  
In the afternoon, someone knocked on his office door. Could he not be left alone just for a day? He didn't answer. They knocked again, and then, to his horror, the door handle moved and the door opened far enough to allow Claire to poke her head in.  
"Hi, it's me," she said, while she let the rest of her body slide inside. "I'm so, so sorry for intruding upon you," she said. "Minerva sent me. May I sit down?" She inclined her head towards a chair.  
Severus frowned, asking, "Is this about the lessons?"  
"Yes. I assumed now's a good time. You don't have anything going on, do you?" She sat down while simultaneously tossing her hair over her shoulder and smoothing down her dress in one soft, fluid movement. "I'm so thrilled Minerva assigned you to prepare lessons with me! I do admit that my expertise is not quite as vast as yours. I'd love for you to fill in the gaps."  
He was mildly surprised to hear Claire admit her academic shortcomings. Perhaps that was what made him say, "I have already drawn up some lesson plans. We can start going through them now."  
"Wonderful!" Claire trilled, and plunged into an explanation: "So, the third-years. I was going to teach them the Girding Potion next. But I just can't seem to get the toasting of the dragonfly thoraxes right. So lucky I have you to guide me now," she sighed."  
Severus' lip curled, hinting at the tiniest of smiles. He started to explain to her how to properly toast dragonfly thoraxes, but Claire soon interrupted him. "I know what we're going to do!" she exclaimed, "I'll get some dragonflies from my stock and you can teach me in practice!"  
"There's no need for you to fetch them, I have some here."  
"Oh no, I wouldn't want to waste your ingredients! I'm sure they are much better curated than mine. I can be a bit messy sometimes," she chuckled and briefly touched his shoulder. Before he could reply, she was already out of the door. He could hear her say "Hi!" to someone outside. There was a short silence and then a knock on his door, which Claire had left slightly open.  
"Severus? It's Mette. Can I come in?"  
He simply couldn't seem to escape her. "I'm busy at the moment."  
"Please? I'll be quick."  
"Fine." He'd make sure it was quick.  
Mette stepped through the door and then stood there, fidgeting on the belt loops of her jeans. "I, um," she started, then frowned and asked, "What was Claire doing here?"  
"I'm helping her plan lessons. What do you want?"  
Mette blinked twice, then said, "I wanted to make sure that I didn't offend you yesterday, when I asked you to accompany me to the auction. I know you have other things on your mind. I guess I should have asked you how you are first? Because I really want to know..." Her expression changed and her eyes got watery. This was the last thing Severus needed right now – having to comfort someone on his behalf. Mette continued in a choked voice, saying, "I caused your collapse and all that came after, didn't I?"  
How had he not realized this before? She was right. If she hadn't kept prying into his life, forcing him to open up to her, asking nosy questions, none of this would have happened. He creased his brow and clenched his jaw, staring at her while this realization sunk in.  
She put her hand over her mouth. A single tear fell from her eyelashes onto her cheek. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed, "I never wanted—"  
At that moment, the door was flung open and Claire came back in, a small box made of turquoise leather in her hand. "Oh, you're still here!" she said to the back of Mette's head. Claire's voice had a strained gaiety in it. Mette quickly wiped her face on her sleeve. When she didn't move immediately, Claire said, "Go on, sweetie, we've got work to do!"  
Mette turned to the door in such a way that Claire wouldn't see her face. "Bye," Mette said meekly, and closed the door behind her.  
"She seemed upset," Claire snorted, amused. "That's exactly what I was talking about; people getting all teary and pestering one to_ talk_ after something happened. They act all broken up about it, but in reality, they just want to show off how _compassionate_ they are. It's really just a way to make themselves feel important. You are very wise not to fall for it! And what use is going through the thing over and over again? Dwelling on it only makes it worse. Just move on already!"  
"Yes," Severus nodded, "That's what I think as well." He was pleasantly surprised by Claire's insight. Potions might not have been her strong suit, but she was smarter than he had given her credit for.  
Claire smiled, then sat up straight and asked in a chipper voice, "Where were we?"  
Severus asked her to take equipment from the cupboard. She kept taking out items and asking, "This one?"  
After a long time, she had finally assembled everything they needed. A memory of working with Mette flickered up in Severus' mind, but he quickly subdued it.  
It took quite a few attempts for Claire to get the dragonflies right. She burned so many of them to a crisp that Severus was glad they had not used his own stock. After she had tidied up her workplace, she sat back down. Severus was about to ask her if she had any more questions, when she unexpectedly leaned forward and took a strand of his hair. "I'm so glad you did something about your hair," she said. He slid back to get himself out of her reach. She seemed undisturbed, saying, "It's really nice this way. Your skin, too." She smiled and kept looking at him.  
He needed to change the topic. "What else do you need help with?"  
"Oh, but we've already done so much, I'm exhausted! You've filled my brain with lots of valuable knowledge, Mister!" She touched the tip of his nose with her forefinger, then threw her head back laughing. With a flirtatious "See you tomorrow!" she left him.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Don't forget to subscribe. If you want to make me happy, leave a fave or a review :)


	24. Chapter 24: A New Beginning - part 2

**Trigger warning:** this chapter contains a mild non-con situation. Severus is _not_ the perpetrator. Please scroll to the end for a more detailed description.

* * *

Claire and Severus started meeting regularly in the evenings. Working with Claire was a slow, repetitive process. On the other hand, he enjoyed being with someone who did not look at him with pain in her eyes and tried to ask him how he was. Also, since she usually declared herself tired after a couple of hours, he still had the late night to work on his own projects. He had found some loose pieces of parchment in one of his journals. They were covered with notes about a potion that he had never managed to finish refining. The script was tiny, with many crossed-out lines and writing squeezed into any available margin, but he had no trouble deciphering it.

He remembered writing this in the months before he had had to assume responsibilities as headmaster. His research had been an attempt to improve upon his own recipe for a calming potion. He had aimed to develop the potion in such a way that, while it calmed the nerves, it also enhanced mental focus. Being calm, yet of sharp mind would make Occlumency much easier even for less trained wizards.

Not that he had needed a potion like that to face the Dark Lord. His Occlumency skills had been unparalleled, as far as he knew. He had trained his mind vigorously every day to be able to empty it of all subversive thoughts and replace them with sounds and images that would make the Dark Lord believe firmly that Severus was his most loyal servant.

While he didn't know if he would need this potion now the Dark Lord was gone, he did require something to fill his days, all those hours when Claire wasn't there. The potion was supposed to be simple to brew in the end. Wizards not trained in potioneering would foolishly assume that this meant the recipe would be easy to develop. They could not be more wrong. The simplest of recipes required the most experimentation, the finest tuning of every single ingredient. Those were the times when Severus realized that he felt much better already. Apparently, keeping busy and keeping the right company worked wonders.

Since the day he had so unceremoniously shooed Mette from his office, he was more successful in avoiding her. He realized that spending time with Claire was much easier than spending time with Mette. There was no nervous anticipation, no challenging questions, no awkward silences, no raised pulse. All conversations where light, and Claire had a way to praise his skill and knowledge that made him feel at ease.

"Can I pick your brain about something unrelated to Potions?" she asked one day. "What do you recommend I should do when a student is disruptive in class?"

"I believe it is better to apprehend students before they get too confident and start taking liberties. If you discipline a few of them peremptorily, the rest of them will know that such behaviour won't be tolerated."

"That is very wise! I should have done that from the beginning; I'm afraid I have been too lenient. Now they don't quite feel my authority." She heaved a theatrical sigh. "There is so much you can teach me!" After a short hesitation, she said, "You know, I was wondering... you have been helping me so much lately and I can't give you anything in return."

The fact that the quality of Potions lessons would dramatically increase was, for the time being, satisfaction enough. He said, "There's no need to repay me."

Claire made a disappointed sound and said, "But I've had such a good idea! You see, I've thought of something that you might not know yet that I could teach you." She leaned close to him and put her hand on his leg.

He jumped up from his chair, hastily grabbing whatever lay before him on his desk and pretending to put it away. His back turned towards Claire, he said, "No, it's fine, really."

"Oh, come on." Claire had gotten up as well and moved towards him so smoothly that she was upon him before he even knew it. To his horror, she laid her hand on his cheek and turned his head around to face her. "You can't tell me you haven't been curious!"

"No, really, I'm..." He suddenly remembered Lily's words, urging him to seek joy. Physical intimacy was something people enjoyed, right? While he didn't feel too keen on it right now, maybe that was just because he was inexperienced; maybe he just had to get used to it. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned his body towards her.

Claire's hand was on his chest, the length of her body pressed against him. She let her hand wander down his stomach. He held his breath, then exhaled shakily.

"Aw," Claire purred, "No need to be nervous, darling. I will be gentle. And you won't even need to do anything." She knelt down before him and undid his trousers.

It was over quickly. Claire slithered back up until her face was close to his again, saying, "That wasn't so bad, was it?" in a husky voice. She put both hands around his face and looked him deep in the eyes. "See you tomorrow, babe." She floated out of his office, leaving the door slightly open.

Severus stood there, uncertain of what had just happened. The relief he had felt had lasted only a second. Now, he was a little cold and strangely nonplussed.

From the corridor, he heard Claire say, "You're too late, honey!"

He heard footsteps outside. The door moved. Panicking, he hastily pulled up his pants, but couldn't manage to close all the buttons before Mette was inside.

"Oh, I— I'm sorry, I should—" she hastily turned her back to him.

The heat rose quickly in his face. "You can't help yourself, can you!" he spat "You need to _stop_ prying into my life! Haven't you done enough damage?"

She half turned towards him, tears in her eyes. "I just wanted to—"

"No! Just stay out of it, stop trying to get me to do things or to 'open up'. Can't you see this is_ not_ what I need right now?"

"But—"

"Go! Please, just go!"

She finally left, the door softly clicking shut behind her. Cursing, Severus threaded the last button through its hole.

The next day, he was wary to admit Claire to his office, but she positively pushed through him when he opened the door.

"Hi darling!" she sang. He made a non-committal noise by way of reply. She dropped her voice and said, chuckling quietly, "I take it little Miss Squibby wasn't amused when she visited you yesterday?"

Severus frowned. "You really need to close the door when you leave."

Claire waved his request away with a slender hand. "Oh, at least now she knows, right? This'll teach her to barge in on you like that!"

While he knew Claire was right, something felt off. He was probably still uncomfortable about the situation with Mette yesterday. Severus brushed the feeling aside. He had vowed not to let himself be dragged down by the past, and he would keep his promise to himself.

He spent the next hour trying to show her how to brew a Confusing Concoction, but he could not shake the impression that she was not paying attention. She was staring at his face. It made him uneasy.

"You know it's Valentine's Day tomorrow..." She let her voice trail off suggestively.

Severus frowned and said "So what?"

"Totally dumb, I know!" she laughed. "I was just thinking, maybe you and I should go on a date. Now that we have, you know..." she chuckled throatily and touched his hand.

"I don't know..." Severus said

"Aww, come on," Claire pouted, "You can't just blow me off now that I've done you this little favour!"

"I didn't ask you to do that."

"Don't tell me you didn't like it! Come on, admit it, it was fun, wasn't it?"

"Could we please just get back to work?"

"You aren't still hung up on that little Squib, are you?"

"Don't talk about her like that." The words had escaped him before he could stop himself.

Claire gasped and raised her eyebrows. "You are! But you must know you're out of her league! A skilful, powerful, intelligent wizard like you – with a Squib? How are you going to feel being seen with her, hm? I can help you forget her, you know," she purred.

Severus looked up at her.

"Oh," she exclaimed with a sigh, "I so wish I could show you the world out there! I don't know why they are locking you up like this. Many people know what you did for us during the war. You probably aren't aware of this but you're kind of a celebrity. I'm sure if you were to go out, people would receive you like a prince!"

A prince. Was this really how people saw him? Were Xanimus and Minerva overly cautious in keeping him hidden away? Claire might have a point.

"I can see you thinking," Claire teased. "Tell you what, if we go out tomorrow, I'll introduce you to some of my friends who are simply _dying_ to meet you! And I'd look really good on you." She batted her lashes. "Come on, let's at least try. One date can't hurt, can it?"

The word "date" almost made him refuse. But he was tempted to be among other wizards who could appreciate him. "I'll think about it."

"Good boy," she purred, "You won't regret it."

They walked up to lunch together. Severus would have liked to get some time to himself. Claire, however, was chattering away happily and would not leave his side. When they sat down, Severus saw Mette give them a dirty look. He ate quickly, longing to go back to the dungeons and be alone.

He strode down the corridor away from the Great Hall. From somewhere ahead of him, shrieks and laughter echoed through the castle. He wished they'd shut up. Why did he have to be locked up in a school of all places?

When he rounded a corner, he found the source of the noise: Three girls, they might have been second- or third-years, stood huddled by a pillar. Suddenly, a cloud of pink glitter erupted above their heads, prompting them to squeal with delight. Another pink cloud exploded and the shrieking reached an insufferable volume. Severus rushed up to them, reached over their heads and snatched the item that was causing all this ruckus from one of the girls' hands. "Will you stop this obnoxious behaviour!" he barked. "Ten points from—" his eyes darted to the crest on their cloaks "—Ravenclaw!" The look of shock on their faces filled him with satisfaction. "Go!" he snarled and they trod of, hanging their heads.

"Professor Snape," called a sharp voice behind him, "I need a word."

He turned and saw Mette standing there with a thunderous look on her face.

Unbelievable! That was it. He'd make her stay away from him once and for all. She was opening a classroom door beside her and gestured for him to go in. With long strides, he walked through the door, banging it shut behind him. Mette said angrily,

"What was that just now? Did you have to be so harsh?"

Would she use any excuse to force him to talk to her? "I suggest you leave it to me how I discipline the students," he said coldly.

"But there was nothing that required any disciplining! They weren't breaking any rules. Why would you take so many points?"

"In my experience – which is far greater than yours – the more it hurts them, the better the message will sink in."

Mette raised her eyebrows. "Can you even do this? You are not officially a teacher."

"I'm still more of a teacher than you are," he sneered.

"Excuse me?" Mette looked at him incredulously, her eyes wide open.

"You can't award points, can you, seeing as that requires magic and you're a Squib."

She shook her head slowly, staring at him. "Who are you?" she whispered.

This question hardly required an answer. He walked through the door, leaving her there. He felt that he'd finally broken through. She'd leave him alone now.

* * *

**Trigger warning:** Claire performs oral sex on Severus without his consent. He doesn't really react to it or stop Claire because he doesn't know what's happening at first and it ends very quickly. There is no explicit description in the text.

Thanks so much for reading again! Also, a big fat Thank You to all of you who leave reviews, I enjoy them soooo much! Subscribe to never miss a chapter :)


	25. Chapter 25: The Date - part 1

"I'll go on that date with you," Severus quietly told Claire the next day at lunch.

She let out a delighted gasp and loudly said, "I knew you'd come around! Wear something nice, will you? Those black clothes make me depressed." She proceeded to verbosely plan what she would wear and wondered out loud which restaurant they might go to. This caused Minerva to give Severus a searching look. He was glad that Mette wasn't there.

Since he had no other colour than black in his wardrobe, he turned a set of his clothes into a deep emerald green. It proved to be harder than he thought. He had to hold his wand very firmly, as it seemed to be twitching, and say the spell loudly several times. Normally, he only had to say very complex incantations out loud. Something as basic as a colour transformation should have been done in a second. Somewhat disgruntled at the effort this had cost, he put on his clothes and got ready to meet Claire.

They had agreed to meet in the entrance hall, but when he opened the door to the corridor, Claire squealed "Surprise!", making him jump. She looked him up and down with a tiny frown, then said, "I guess technically, this is not black." She was wearing a tight pastel green dress that left her shoulders bare. Her hair cascaded down her back in soft waves. A small bejewelled pin of the same colour as her dress fixed one strand of hair to the side of her head. Her pale blue eyes, the colour of the tropical sea, seemed larger than normal. Severus had to admit that she looked stunning. _I would look good on you_, her voice echoed in his head. She hadn't been kidding.

"Can you Apparate?" she asked once they had left the school grounds.

"I haven't had a chance to practice yet."

"Right, then I'll take you." Before he could reply, she had grabbed his arm and turned on the spot.

The second they arrived, Severus took a few steps away from her, hunched over, his arms around his stomach. He took deep breaths, trying not to vomit.

"Oh, come on," Claire twittered, "I can't have been that bad!" He had scarcely gained control over himself when she threaded her arm through his and pulled him along. They stepped out of the alley they had arrived in and onto a much larger road, a wide current of people hurrying past.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"London, of course!" Claire joined the rush of bodies and let it sweep the two of them along. She giggled and said, "Funny, knowing we are the most high-class people in this crowd, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know," she nodded her head sideways at the crowd. "Muggles!" she whispered. "They're so adorable!"

"They get by just fine," Severus said, frowning.

Claire threw her head back and laughed. When he didn't join in, she said, "Oh, you're serious? Little Miss Squib is still messing around in your head, huh."

"Don't—"

"Anyway, let's talk about something else!" Claire cut across him. "You're just going to love the restaurant you're taking me to! It's a Muggle place, granted, but they have the absolute cutest interior design you have ever seen. And the food is great, too. A bit pricey, but absolutely worth it!"

"What?" Severus stopped walking, forcing the people behind them to swerve. "I am taking you? To a Muggle place? I don't have any Muggle money. And you said we were going to be with other wizards."

She smiled at him, her head cocked, a look on her face like one would give a silly child. "We're getting to that later. First, I want to have you to myself for a little while!"

"Again, I don't have Muggle money."

She extracted an envelope-sized purse from under her arm and rummaged around in it with a slender finger. She extracted a few notes and handed them to him. "You can pay me back later."

"Why don't you just keep the money?"

"What, and be the one paying the waiter? That's real romantic! No, you're taking me out, you are the one handling the money."

Severus did not move. She rolled her eyes and stuffed the notes into his coat pocket. Then, she reinstalled her smile and said, "Shall we go?"

When they stepped into the restaurant, a stressed-looking waiter hurried towards them, saying, "Did you make reservations? We're not taking walk-ins to—" His face suddenly relaxed and a sheepish smile replaced the tense frown. "This way, please, Ma'am. Sir."

"Are you out of your mind?" Severus hissed after they had taken their seats. "There's Muggles all around us! And that is an Unforgivable Curse!"

"Relax, babe," she said, "I've done this a thousand times. Never had any trouble." She interlaced her fingers, rested her chin on her hands and proceeded to gaze at him.

How was she so calm after having committed a serious crime, in the midst of Muggles no less? He said, "The Ministry can track this kind of magic. And I'm so close to you, they won't be able to tell who cast the spell! I'm trying to stay inconspicuous!"

Claire clicked her tongue. "Didn't I just tell you to relax? It's all about who you know. And I know_ everyone_. Everyone who counts, that is. Anyway... You just said something about being close to me? Could you elaborate on that?" Her eyes twinkled.

Severus' mind was still reeling. He cast his eyes down onto the menu to buy himself some time to calm down and to avoid answering Claire. But his attention was grabbed by the prices on the menu. Most of the items cost about as much as the jacket he had bought with Xanimus. "This can't be right," he muttered. "Is this in Pounds?"

"Of course, silly!" Claire laughed. "It's a special day, you can splurge a little, can't you?"

He started sweating. During his absence from Hogwarts, Minerva had transferred the money he had left before he died back to him. But taking Claire on this "date" would take a chunk out of his savings. Claire, however, did not let him dwell on his misgivings. She said, "Now, I'm sure you'd like to know little bit about me, wouldn't you?"

"Er..."

"Right, so my father left us when I was only seven years old. My mother remarried four years later. I was actually glad she did, because my stepfather has a really good job at the ministry. Like all girls – well, almost all girls – I like pretty things." She giggled. "And I'm really picky about quality. This also applies to the man on my side..." She looked at him with her head coquettishly cocked to one side.

Severus blinked at her over the top of his menu. When he didn't say anything, Claire pressed her lips together ever so slightly before she continued. "So, yeah, my stepfather only had a son. He was really happy to get me as a stepdaughter. Someone he could spoil like a princess." She smiled serenely, then her expression changed. Melancholy crept into it slowly and effectfully. "You know... only very few people know this about me but..." She lowered her voice. "My great-grandfather squandered all the family money." She briefly closed her eyes and whispered, "My grandmother, his daughter, had to work... and as a companion, no less!" She bit her lip as she looked up at Severus with a pained expression.

"Why is that a problem? You also have a job," he pointed out.

"You don't mind at all?" she exclaimed with bright eyes. "I thought as former head of Slytherin House, you'd expect a certain status in your partner?"

Partner? Wasn't this going a bit fast?

"Status doesn't make a wizard. Skill does," he said.

"Oh!" Claire touched her hand to her chest and exhaled, "I'm so glad you see it like that! Well, you would, wouldn't you, seeing as you are such a skilled wizard. Dumbledore must have been so thrilled to have you as his Potions Master! How long did you make him dance around you before you agreed to work for him?"

So she didn't know everything about his past. Should he tell her how he came to teach at Hogwarts? She had opened up to him about something that she felt was personal. Severus felt somewhat obliged to do the same. But his secrets were much more damning than hers. Then again, how, if not through some truth about himself, should they ever get close enough to become friends? He was supposed to be a friend to someone, and Claire was his best shot right now. He searched his mind for something to tell her, some part of the truth.

He said, "Actually, I—"

"Oh, silly me! I never even told you how I got the job! You were in such a luxurious position, weren't you, being headhunted by Dumbledore! I actually had to apply for the position." She threw him a glance of mock annoyance. "But once Minerva saw my apothecary diploma and learned that I was trained by Horace Slughorn, she hired me on the spot. Still, I'm no Severus Snape! But here you are, honing my skills." She laid her hand on his. "Believe me, I know how lucky I am to have you. I can't wait for you to meet the other people in my life! Later tonight, you and I will be going to a friend's Valentine's Day party. All of Britain's important young wizards will be there and I can introduce you!" She laughed. "I guess you're getting opportunity handed to you on a silver platter yet again. Lucky you!"

The party took place in a huge flat in South Kensington. As they arrived, they could hear laughter and talking inside. Claire murmured a word into the ear of the brass lion that held the door knocker in its mouth, whereupon the door swung open. They were greeted by golden lights from a row of crystal chandeliers along the hallway. A House Elf took their coats and they made their way into the salon, which was full of people. When they entered, the talk and laughter died down for a moment, then people started whispering. A tall, lean man appeared out of nowhere, wrung Severus' hand and clapped him on the shoulder. "The man of the hour!" he called jovially. "So glad to see you by the side of our dear Claire!"

"Aw, Roddy, you're too sweet!" Claire chittered while squeezing Severus's arm. The man called Roddy bent down and kissed her on each cheek.

"Everyone's dying to see you," Roddy said to her, and Claire followed him through the crowd, pulling Severus along. He was introduced to people named Kenneth and Millie and Kitty and other names he struggled to remember. Everybody seemed to know who he was, for Claire, who introduced what felt like every single person in the room to him, never needed to tell them his name.

He was required to say very little. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that no one talked to him. After they had shaken his hand or clapped his shoulder, they usually turned and started chatting to Claire. One woman asked them were they had spent the evening. When Claire said the name of the restaurant, the woman exclaimed "Ah!" and leaned backwards as if she was about to faint. When she came back up, she looked at Severus with her eyes wide and said, "Didn't you just love it?"

"Well, I—" was all he managed to say, for the woman turned back to Claire and asked, "Did you have the triple chocolate mousse for dessert? It's simply divine!"

"No, my charming date over here didn't fancy dessert," Claire said with a hint of reproach in her voice. But then, she smiled meaningfully at the other woman saying, "He might be saving up for later. I have a feeling we might have _dessert_ after all." Both women started shrieking with laughter.

The woman was slinking away and whispering something into the man's ear who had been introduced as Kenneth. Kenneth looked over and nodded, slightly raising his champagne flute at Severus.

Claire was pulling Severus this way and that, talking to people who all seemed to be young, beautiful, and fashionable. The woman, who he learned was called Georgie, joined the circles they were standing in every now and then, making cryptic remarks that caused a fair amount of giggling and the exchange of meaningful looks and smiles, some of them directed at him. It was as if he was the centre of a secret that everyone but him knew about. For the first time since he got his wand, he was tempted to use it for Legilimency.

He excused himself to get away for a moment and clear his head. After he had extracted his arm from Claire's iron grip, he weaved through the forest of people who looked down on him as he squeezed through their tightly-knit groups.

Finally, he found the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the lion-clawed bath tub and tried to figure out what was going on. He felt profoundly out of place. People were supposed to admire him, but they talked more about him than they did to him. And what were they all giggling and winking about? He took his wand out of his cloak and stored it in his right sleeve.

When he got back into the salon, Claire gave him a ravishing look, saying, "There you are!" and pressed herself against his side. Looking into her eyes, he grasped his chance. Focusing hard, he thought _'Legilimens'_ while trying to point his concealed wand in her direction. Images started flickering past. In a flash, he saw her and himself in a tight embrace, both naked. His focus immediately collapsed and he physically drew back.

This explained all the giggling and meaningful looks. It was appalling; he wanted to be appreciated for the good things he had done in his past life, not as a pet to be shown off. He needed people to tell him how valuable he was, not admire him solely for his prospects of bedding Claire.

"Something the matter?" Claire asked.

"I would like to leave," he said.

"You're not wasting any time, are you?" she said flirtatiously. She waved goodbye to her fabulous friends, one of whom shouted "You go girl!" after her. The second they were out of the salon, Claire turned on the spot, pulling him back to the outskirts of Hogsmeade with her. The side effects of the Apparition were as bad as before. When he had composed himself, Claire grabbed his hand, trying to pull him along. He stood rooted to the spot.

"Are you making up your mind whether we should go to your place or mine?" she teased.

"I'm going to my place, I don't know where you are going."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't want to sleep with you."

Claire scoffed. "What, you've had your fun and now you're ditching me?"

"I haven't had any _ fun_. You strung me along all evening!"

"Excuse me for trying to give you a good time! How am I supposed to know what you like, you never say anything! I did my best with the information I had, which was _none_! And, by the way, I do think you had some fun yesterday!"

"Yesterday was... I didn't like it, you caught me off guard."

"Oh really! It sure felt as if you liked it!"

"That was an involuntary physical reaction."

"Well, if it was so awful, why did you lead me on like this, spend time with me, take me on a date? You let me introduce you to my friends! You're making a fool out of me!"

"You're making a fool out of yourself," he said calmly.

"Am I?" she shrieked. "You came to me, agreeing to go out together! And yesterday, you could have stopped me anytime!"

"You promised if I was to go among wizards, I would be received as a prince. Yet, your wonderful friends couldn't even be bothered to talk to me."

"There it is! This is why you went out with me. You were hoping to get your ego stroked! Well, excuse me if I dare talk about anything else but you! Also, it's really charming that you are fine with me when you get me to yourself, but get all moody as soon as I talk to anyone else."

"What? That's not—"

"I can't deal with this right now. I'll see you tomorrow." She walked off.

Severus looked at her retreating back, utterly bewildered. Was she right, had he been using her? He felt like she had talked him into the date, but in he end, he was the one who had agreed. He was the one who hadn't said no. And now, he felt the consequences of his indecision. He would really need to work on his social skills. He had not listened to Lily when she had told him that he had the wrong friends, when she was trying to convince him to take a different path. He was not going to make the same mistake again. Claire had a lot of friends, so she would know better than him how to behave around people. She was probably right about everything she'd just said. Severus took a heavy breath. He would have to talk to her tomorrow. Why was it so hard for him to have friends when this seemed so natural a thing for everyone else?

* * *

Thanks so much for reading again! Leave a fave or a review if you enjoyed it :) Subscribe so you'll never miss a new chapter!


	26. Chapter 26: The Date - part 2

He decided to try and forget the horrible evening by working on his Occlumency potion. In fact, working on this potion had exactly the effect on him that it was supposed to produce. It made his mind sharp as a knife and filled him with a deep, satisfied calm.

The last book in his series of Potions journals still had a good number of empty pages. He opened it and looked at the blank sheet of pale yellow parchment. He had worked out the initial steps of the Ooclumency potion. They were ready to be written down. This would be the first time since he had come back to life that he would write in those journals. He dipped a quill in ink and carefully wrote out the title. This was so much more beautiful than the glare of Mette's computer screen. Yet another thing she had made him do that he had not felt comfortable with.

Now, on the other hand, he felt like he had when he had first been in the Potions classroom with Xanimus. In control. At the right place. But this time, he had not arrived out of a hopeless search for himself. He had no questions, no insecurities. This was where he was meant to be. He felt superior.

Now, he only needed to sort out his fight with Claire. _Was it even a fight?_

To his great surprise, however, Claire was perfectly pleasant when he admitted her to his office the next day. After she had sat down, she looked at him and sighed, saying, "I'm sorry about my little outburst yesterday. I can come on a bit strong sometimes. Will you forgive me?"

He only realized how tense he had been when he felt himself relax at Claire's words. "Yes," he said, albeit still a little cautious.

"Aw, cheer up! It's all good," she said with a teasing smile.

Maybe having friends wasn't that hard after all.

When they had set to work, Severus marvelled at how completely Claire seemed to have forgotten about yesterday's incident. What was more, she was not touching him as much as she used to. Apparently, she had picked up on his wish for boundaries and had decided to respect them.

He only ever saw Mette from afar now. She never looked at him. Sometimes, his mind played a cruel trick when he accidentally glimpsed her, making him remember the night after the Christmas Party. Her expression when she'd realized what movie they were seeing... He tried not to look at her again. He had to train himself in indifference toward her.

A few days later, Claire came to his office in a cocktail dress and enveloped in a cloud of perfume so thick Severus almost choked. She batted her lashes at him when she sat down. He greeted her and got ready to work. She did not move but merely cleared her throat.

"Did you want to ask something?" he inquired.

She clicked her tongue in mock exasperation and said, "Aren't you going to ask me why I'm looking like this?" She ran her hands down her waist. Severus looked at her confusedly, then back at the piece of parchment before him. Claire clicked her tongue again, then leaned forward and said, "I'm going on a date! With Kenneth!"

"Who?"

"Kenneth! You know him, you met him at the party."

"I'll take your word for it. I'd like to begin now."

Throughout their hour together, Claire checked her reflection about eight times in a small pocket mirror and kept fluffing up her hair. Every time she did that, a fresh wave of perfume hit Severus' nostrils. When she finally left, she made a great fuss of smoothing down her dress and checking that her high-heeled shoes were properly strapped up. "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow," she said as she opened the door.

"There's no need for that," he said, but she was already gone, having left the door ajar.

The next day, Claire smiled serenely when she entered his office. However, her smile did not seem to be directed at Severus, for she floated past him, sat down an a chair and proceeded to stare into space.

"Can we begin?" Severus asked.

"What? Oh, yeah, sure."

The silly smile was still on her face and her eyes glazed right back over after she had answered his question. He had to address her several times on more than one occasion to catch her attention. Eventually, he said, "I don't think we will get anything done today. I hope tomorrow you will have a clear head again."

Claire did not seem disconcerted by his knitted brows at all. She just floated out of his door, not even saying goodbye.

The next day, she wore the same serene smile. Severus was not willing to put up with her distracted attitude again.

"You do remember, don't you," he said in a snide voice, "that these meetings are solely for _your_ benefit? I suggest you snap out of whatever is going on in your head right now and focus on learning how to brew the potions that you are supposed to teach."

"But I'm in love! Can't you be happy for me?"

"Not if it interferes so severely with our lessons."

"Aw, is my time with Kenneth getting in the way of this?" she asked, moving her hand back and forth to indicate Severus and herself.

"It's getting in the way of your teaching," Severus answered.

Claire shot him a shrewd look. After a short moment, she sighed and said, "I guess you're right. I'll try to pay attention today."

"Good."

"Um, just one more thing..." Claire batted her lashes at him. "I need to take Monday off. I have another date!" she sing-songed.

Severus frowned.

Claire said, "Don't be sad, I'll be back the day after."

Claire's absence gave Severus an entire day to himself. He could keep working on the Occlumency potion. At first, he enjoyed the prospect of not having to try and teach her. She was like a child, so easily distracted. Then again, she was also easily fascinated and kept oohing and aahing at things he showed her, never failing to declare herself amazed at the expanse of Severus' knowledge.

In fact, the later the evening got, the more claustrophobic he felt. Claire, despite her faults, brought a certain brightness, a glittering, fluttering distraction from his thoughts. Was it possible that he missed Claire?

He hated to admit it, but he was relieved when Claire entered his office on Tuesday evening. He was just clearing away some equipment he had been using to experiment on the Occlumency potion when she burst through the door, all rapturous sighs and starry eyes.

"I take it yesterday was enjoyable?" he asked dryly, but with the hint of a smile.

"Like you wouldn't even believe!" Claire exclaimed. "Kenny took me to-"

"That's alright, you don't need to elaborate. Let's begin."

"Awww, you aren't jealous, are you?" Claire teased.

The smile vaniched from his face. "I most certainly am not!"

"Uh, uh, uh, there's no use denying it!" She wagged her forefinger at him.

"I assure you, I am not jealous," he said in a low voice.

"You know," she said with an air of superiority, "the more you deny it the less you can conceal the truth." With a sideways glance she added, "Just say the word and I'll send him packing." Severus creased his brow and started to say something, but Claire was distracted by an item on his desk. "What's that? Your diary?" Before he could do anything, she had summoned his Potions journal, which he had not yet put away.

"Excuse me!" He said irritably and snatched it out of her hand. "Can we start working now?"

"Oh, please can I see it again? I'm sorry I just summoned it, it looked so interesting! Please?"

His first reflex was to deny her. But then again, there was nothing private or secret in those journals. Maybe he could even use his latest development to explain to her the basics of improving an existing potion. He pondered Claire for a short moment. She was looking at him pleadingly with her big round eyes. Wordlessly, he handed her the journal back. She made a little sound that might have expressed happiness and started leafing through the journal. She stopped at a page with a diagram of a dissected Pixie. Severus expected her to declare her disgust. Instead, she marvelled at it, saying, "Did you draw this? You're so talented, this is beautiful!" For once, she was not tittering, but used an unaffected voice that sounded almost natural. All his misgivings instantly forgotten, Severus sat down beside Claire. Together, they turned page after page, Claire asking dozens of questions. He answered them with delight, relishing in her admiration. For the first time, she stayed at his office longer than just a couple of hours.

The following evening, he started to explain his improvement of the Occlumency potion to her. He had spent the day finishing the experiments and had just finished writing everything down. Something about Claire had changed. She was alert and interested, not nearly as scatterbrained as usual. Seeing his journals had finally sparked a true interest for Potions in Claire. They could probably even start working on a project together soon.

Severus found himself smiling more and more often while Claire was with him. He learned to ignore her relentless chattering about absolutely nothing at all. He just nodded and said "hm" every now and then whenever they sat together at meals. Dare he think of Claire as his friend? Granted, they had had a difficult start. But now, everything was going smoothly. The past was finally starting to fade away.

One evening, Claire and Severus were brewing a Jawbind Potion. He was just explaining how and why he liked to divert from the textbook, when someone knocked at his door. Claire immediately called "Come in!" in her most melodious voice. Severus was momentarily dumbstruck by her impertinence to invite someone into _his_ office. But the surprise quickly subsided. This was just Claire being herself. The door opened and in came a tall, blonde man in white slacks and a pink button-down shirt.

"Kenny!" she shrieked and jumped up, sending a batch of dried knotgrass flying. She flung her arms around Kenneth's neck and he held her around the waist.

"Are you almost done, darling?" asked Kenneth.

"Almost, right?" she asked, looking round to Severus. Without waiting for an answer, she pulled Kenneth onto a chair and said, "Sit with me, you can watch me being in my element."

"Excuse me," Severus said, slightly irritated, "you will need to wait outside until we're done."

"Ooooh," Claire pouted, "I want to show Kenny here how you're helping me and how much I've learned from you!"

Severus hesitated, but said, "Make sure it doesn't interfere with your work."

He tried to proceed, but Claire was only half listening. The arrival of this Kenneth person was making Claire revert to her old, distracted ways. Severus did not appreciate it at all.

"Aren't you going to write any of this down?" he asked a little sharply after she had added some sneezewort without even looking at the cauldron.

"Oh, you can just give me your notes, can't you?"

"I will do no such thing. I thought we were past this! Pay attention, will you."

"Now, look here, mate," Kenneth interjected, "Give the girl a break. She's been working her beautiful head off these past weeks, surely you can let her copy your stuff."

Severus briefly clenched his jaw, then said, "The aim of these sessions is to teach her to brew the potions she is supposed to show her students. As the Potions Mistress of this school, she should not even have required my assistance. Yet, there I was, trying to drill the very basics of the subjects into her _beautiful head_. We were finally starting to make some headway, and now you turn up and distract her from her work. I recommend you stay out of this, _mate_."

Claire chuckled, "Boys, boys! No need to argue." She squeezed Kenneth's face with both her hands. "I'll be all yours in a second, I promise."

Severus slowly exhaled. He gave Claire the next instructions. She took the box containing powdered cockroach wings and was about to take a pinch of it, when Kenneth suddenly poked her in the sides, jokingly shouting "Don't spill any!" which caused her to jump and giggle - and tip all of the powdered wings into the cauldron. The half-finished potion started to madly froth and hiss, sending a column of dense purple foam shooting up to the ceiling. Through the din, Severus shouted,

"Out, both of you, OUT!"

"You can't do that!" Claire shouted back. Severus used his wand to get the madness under control. The foam collapsed and the potion stopped hissing.

"And why not?" he asked.

"Because the Headmistress ordered you to help me."

"I am not taking orders from anyone," Severus said coldly.

"Come now-" Kenneth started but Severus hissed,

"Shut up!" He glowered at the two of them. "Get out. Now."

"I won't go," Claire insisted.

"Come on, darling-" Kenneth said to Claire, while nervously glancing at Severus.

"You go, I need a word with him," said Claire.

Kenneth groaned and left.

"You will have to keep your private life away from this room," Severus said to Claire, somewhat calmer now that Kenneth had left.

Her eyes twinkled. "And why, if I may ask?"

"Because it interferes with our work! If you keep up what you've done these past weeks, you might really get somewhere."

"Oh, right." She smiled conspiratorially. "You're worried about my... academic performance, is that it? Are you sure that's the only reason?" She slowly walked towards him.

"Yes."

"I don't believe you," she murmured. She stood very close now. "Don't you miss me?" Her hand was on his lower abdomen, wandering downwards.

Severus grabbed her wrist and pushed her away. _This can't be happening_. Was that what it had all been about? Why she had been rubbing Kenneth under his nose? Why she had improved so much lately? He had started to trust her, had let his guard down.

He hadn't grabbed her hard, but Claire gasped and screamed, "Ow! You hurt me!" The door flew open and Kenneth shouted at Severus, "What do you think you're doing?" He strode up to Severus until his nose was only an inch from him. "Are you laying hands on my girlfriend?" Kenneth bellowed.

Severus curled his upper lip. "If anyone is laying their hands anywhere, it's her."

Kenneth let out an angry roar and made as if to take a swing at Severus. "Kenny, don't!" Claire squealed, holding on to his arm.

"Get out," Severus said coldly, looking at Claire. "And do not come back here."

"Fine, but then you won't see me again. Ever!"

"Good."

"Oh, wonderful! I don't want any part of you anyway, you greasy git! Even if you miraculously learned how to use shampoo, that doesn't change the fact that you're a git! A boring nerd who only ever thinks about his stupid potions and can't even muster the politeness to _talk_ to people at a _party_! And you know what else? You're so uptight and sexually repressed, it's ridiculous! No one will ever want to be with you if you're like that. No one! You could have had me, but you were stupid enough to refuse. Now have fun dying alone!" She slammed the door and left Severus standing stunned behind the cauldron of spoiled potion.

_No one will ever want to be with you_, echoed Claire's voice in his head. His office felt very silent all of a sudden. He sat down in his chair, staring at a small pile of purple froth on the table. She was right, for a man his age, he was uncommonly inexperienced. She had tried to remedy this fact, albeit in a clumsy way. Or was he, in fact, the clumsy one? Claire had so many friends. She knew how to behave around people. He didn't. He was the problem. But even though he knew this, he couldn't seem to check himself before he upset people. He didn't even realize he was doing it until it was too late.

He started tidying up. Slowly and absentmindedly, he put things back were they belonged. Or at least, he put them somewhere.

The next morning, he did not know why he should get up, except for the fact that he was not used to idly lying around. What should he do with his day? He felt no inclination to work on any potions. After all, what use would that be? He would not be teaching anyone else how to teach, let alone stand in front of a class himself. He passed his day sitting at his desk, flicking through his journals uninterestedly and staring at his jars of creatures on the wall. He felt a mad urge to burn the journals. But he couldn't muster the motivation to get up and do it. He sat like that until he got tired, then he went to bed.

The next few days, he went into the Great Hall for meals. He had had a tiny amount of hope that Claire would just walk up to him one day, saying something like, "That was quite a fight, wasn't it!" in her twittering voice. Then he could apologize and they could be friends again. But she never even looked at him. Once, she went so far as to get up and move a few spots down the table when he came to sit next to her. He found himself longing for those times when she had annoyed him. At least someone had talked to him. Now, he was alone. Again.

Eventually, he stopped leaving his quarters at all. He called Bimky when he wanted to eat, but didn't interact with anyone else. Finally, he made up his mind. He would brew one last potion to restore the balance he had disturbed.

* * *

**A/N:** As always, thanks for reading! Don't forget to leave a fave or a review :) Subscribe so you'll never miss a new chapter!


	27. Chapter 27: What You Know To Be True-pt1

**A/N:** Trigger Warning: suicide attempt. Please jump to the end for details.

* * *

He couldn't find it. Hadn't he put it away again after that horrible last evening with Claire? Had they used it all? Frantically, he rummaged through his private stores, throwing boxes out of the cupboards. "Dropwort," he murmured agitatedly, "where is it?" He slammed the door to his private stores shut and attacked the storage cabinet in the classroom next. Nothing there, either. _Maybe Claire has some in her classroom!_ He walked out his door and almost ran through the corridors and up several flights of stairs. When he rounded a corner, he bumped into Sybil Trelawney, who was wandering along idly, tracing her forefinger over her own palm. When Severus nearly collided with her, she looked up irritably, saying,

"Would you mind?" But when her gaze fell upon him, her expression changed. She stared him up and down and, after a moment, asked, "Do you need help?"

"No," he said, annoyed, and quickly wiped the sweat from his face with a trembling hand. Sybil kept gaping at him, but he hurried past her. In Claire's classroom, he ripped open drawers and pushed aside those small leather boxes that she used for her ingredients. Saying that she was "a bit messy sometimes" had been a huge understatement. Nothing was labelled. He started opening every box, looking and sniffing at the contents. It was no use. He would never find the dropwort here. He yelled in frustration.

He set off again, running until he breathed the cool evening air outside the castle. His legs carried him across the school grounds of their own accord. He did not stop running until he arrived at the shores of the lake. For a moment, he stared at the smooth stretch of black water. There could only be one reason his feet had carried him here. In a frenzy, he took off his shoes and his cloak, and waded into the icy water. The cold wound itself tightly around him. When his feet lost contact with the lake floor, he allowed himself to sink.

A small body floating in a vast expanse. The cold water brought clarity. His existence didn't mean anything. What a relief it would be to leave it behind. No more questions, no more judgement, no more trying to be someone he couldn't be. He would see Lily again. She had told him to live. But he couldn't face the challenges of being alive.

_I have failed you, Lily._

His lungs were longing for air. He would inhale, fill them with ice-cold water and let the darkness take him away.

_Now._

_Do it._

_I can't._

All the things he had faced, all that control he had exerted over himself. But the one thing he did not have the courage for was to remove himself from a world so unfit for him. Something inside him did not want to die. Something small, but strong, pushed back at him and didn't let him get the peace he so longed for.

His need for air was getting critical. If he was to resurface, he had to do so_ now_. But when he tried to push himself off the lake floor, something tightened around his ankles. Also, there was no more lake floor. He must have drifted away, into deeper water. The more frantically he kicked, the more tightly the thing that bound him held his ankles. His strength was leaving him. He went deeper and deeper; his chance at getting to the surface fast enough to survive were diminishing by the second. There was hardly any oxygen left in his blood. His muscles slackened and his legs stopped moving. He felt unconsciousness tug at his mind. The last thing he noticed was that the tightness around his ankles disappeared.

A painful sting at his left hip brought him back. He clasped his hand to the spot. Fumbling at the floating folds of his shirt with the last of his energy, he managed to extract his wand and cast a spell that propelled him upwards. His face broke the surface not a moment too early, for his lungs were screaming, forcing him to inhale, whether it was air or water. He kicked madly with his feet and paddled with his arms. _I can't swim._ He tried a few hasty breast strokes, which at least kept him afloat.

Slowly and clumsily, he made his way to the shore. Swimming looked so easy when others did it. It took him a ridiculous amount of frantic paddling to cover a very short distance. Soon, his limbs were burning, but he kept moving, almost automatically. Where fifteen minutes ago he had been all too ready to leave this world, he now invested all his strength to remain a part of it. Finally, he felt the lake floor again. When he reached the beach, he pulled his exhausted body onto the sand and wanted nothing more than to just lie there and fall asleep, never having to see a living soul again.

_I have to talk to Lily again. She needs to tell me what to do._

Shivering, he got up and used his wand to dry himself, as well as his cloak and shoes. He put them on and set off toward the Forbidden Forest, hoping to find Firenze and with him, the Resurrection Stone.

The underbrush rustled with the lively activity of nocturnal animals. The centaur had to be somewhere on the edge of the forest, since the herd that had banned him controlled the deeper parts.

"Firenze?" Severus asked into the darkness. The rustling stopped for a moment, then started up again. No one answered. He walked a short distance and called the centaur's name once more.

He walked the entire length of the forest, stopping every now and then to call "Firenze." He didn't dare shout, for he knew that in the Forbidden Forest, one had to tread lightly to not risk life and limb. His stomach had started rumbling, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. But he couldn't go back to the castle, he had to use the Resurrection Stone.

Hours passed. He had no choice but to venture deeper into the forest, to call out in a louder voice. He had to find Firenze, he just had to. No one answered his calls. Finally, he sat down on a patch of moss. He was empty now.

He had tried everything, had travelled every path that had opened up before him. He had talked to someone about his pain, which had only deepened it. He had found someone who wanted to be with him but had scared them off. Finding joy - it sounded like a cruel joke. To feel happy, one had to connect with other humans, that much he knew. Yet, it was the one thing he could never do.

"I know why you came looking for me," a calm, deep voice said.

Severus' head snapped up. There, in the dim light of dawn, stood Firenze. A load fell off Severus' shoulders. He jumped up to implore the centaur to give him the stone, but before he could speak, Firenze said, "I cannot consent to your request."

Anger and frustration sprung up readily in Severus.

Firenze explained, "I no longer have the stone. And even if I had it, I would never give it to you again. When I allowed you to use the stone before, I went against every warning I had received. But I was sure that it was the only thing to keep you from withering away. I knew, then, that you would find me again and request the stone. It is with the other centaurs. Walking into their midst would be fatal for both of us"

"You have to go get it!" Severus snarled.

"If I get close enough to the border of their territory that their arrows can find my chest, I will be dead within a second."

"Then I'll go. Show me the way."

"You cannot take a single step toward their kingdom. Their bows are bent, their arrows pointing at your heart as we speak."

"GET ME THE STONE!" In a flash, Severus' wand was in his hand, but the centaur was quicker than the wizard. Firenze leapt and was upon Severus, throwing him onto the ground, and knocking his wand out of his hand. For a second, Severus was sure he would be trampled to death, but the centaur's large hooves thumped down on either side of him, pinning his arms to his sides and thus immobilizing him.

"Do not dare to threaten me with your magic, human!" Firenze roared as he looked down at Severus with fiery eyes. "Men are fools. You spend your lives trying to run from your burdens instead of learning to carry them with dignity. You seek content by doing what you think others expect from you and deny your own truth." The intensity of his stare diminished. "You already know the answer. Do not look to those who pull you this way and that as they please, but within your own self." The pressure on Severus' upper arms was taken away. Firenze took a step back and released him. Severus did not dare get up, but remained lying on the wet moss, his heart still pounding. His anger was making way to confusion.

Firenze said, "Go now and face your task." The thumping noises of the centaur's hooves on the forest floor grew quieter and soon disappeared, taking away Severus' only hope to ever speak to Lily again.

Severus wandered back to the dungeons in a trance. _Learn to carry your burdens with dignity._ His burden was too heavy to carry. It had come crashing down on him more violently than ever now that the Stone was out of reach for good.

_Be with the living._ He had tried that, and failed.

_Give them a chance to see the real Severus_, Lily had said. There was no one there. He was an empty husk of guilt and pain, pain and guilt.

An image pushed its way to the front of his mind. Mette, her face illuminated by the light reflected back from the screen, smiling. He stopped and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw colours popping. His groan echoed through the hallway. Would he never get this image out of his head?

The guilt, the pain.

_By the way, Mette was here a number of times,_ said Xanimus' voice in his head.

She had been pestering him, pushing him to open up when he wasn't ready, which had made his situation so much worse.

_She stopped coming after a while because she was afraid that her being here was pressuring you._

Severus stopped walking. The way Mette had said his name right before he had collapsed. The way she had looked at him when she'd realized what film he was showing her. The way she had smiled at him during the Christmas party.

"Get out!" he shouted at the pictures in his head.

_Look within your own self._ No, he needed to stop looking inside himself. In every corner of his mind, he encountered Mette. She was the problem, she had caused all this mess.

_I'm so sorry. I never wanted—_ Never wanted what? He had not given Mette the chance to finish her sentence.

She had confronted him when he had taken points from those girls. Lily used to do things like that. Calling him out when she thought he had misbehaved. _Sev... You're only hurting yourself_, Lily would say, with that expression of pain and sadness on her face. Whenever she had looked at him like that he had known that she was right. As much as Severus had hated it, she'd been right. He had resented that she was right, and she felt his resentment, although she never said anything. It used to make the air between them colder. Little by little, it had put distance between them. Until she was too far away for him to reach.

"Oh no..." he whispered. He put his hand to the corridor wall. He'd done it again. Mette had been right there, right by his side, and he had destroyed it. She had tried to be his friend, his real, actual friend. And he had shoved her away. The guilt, the guilt, the guilt.

What should he do? He had tried apologizing to Lily. It had not worked. It would not work this time, would it? He had hurt Mette too much. He tore at his hair, almost wishing he could rip it out of his scalp, to express the pain that was searing his insides.

_Be this boy for someone who can share joy with you. Be brave once again._

One last time. He could be brave one last time. He had nothing to lose.

It was Wednesday, which meant that she had the afternoon off. That was hours away. A lifetime. He needed to find her right now.

He ran to her office, desperately hoping she'd already be there. Out of breath, his heart thumping, he knocked on her door.

"Come in."

* * *

**A/N:** Trigger Warning: Severus attempts suicide by drowning but decides against it at the last moment. He is already submerged when he changes his mind and has some trouble getting back to the surface, but eventually manages it.

Thank you so much for reading and sorry for the cliffhanger ;-) stay tuned to find out whether Mette is more forgiving than Lily was! And I love all of you who leave a fave or a review or subscribe!


	28. Chapter 28:What You Know To Be True-pt2

The muscles in is arm almost wouldn't obey him when he pushed down the door handle.

Mette looked up from her desk, and her face changed into an expression of shock and disbelief.

Severus's heart sunk. He opened his mouth, but realized he had no idea what to say to her.

"What is it?" she asked. "What could you possibly want from me at this point?"

"I'm... I'm so sorry," he stammered.

"Oh." Mette seemed surprised for a second, but then her brow creased again. "Are you really? I'm not going to tell you all is fine so you can happily walk off to Claire and never give me a second thought."

"Claire!" Severus let out a mirthless laugh. "She makes it all worse." Now that he said it, he realized that it was true. Claire had numbed him, always telling him what he wanted to hear.

Mette snorted. "So, are you just here because you need someone to replace her? Because you don't want to be by yourself?"

"It's true I don't want to be alone. But I only want to talk to you. To _you_," he hurried to say as Mette's eyebrows travelled up her forehead.

"Alright then, talk."

"I'm sorry for what I said to you. About being a Squib..."

"Is that all? I mean, you did way more than just sneering at me for being a Squib!" Her voice rose, "You ignored me, you shouted at me! And you let Claire – Claire! – usher me out of your office when I came to you to apologize. Why on earth would you do that? What have I done to you?"

"Claire was very persistent..."

"So? Are you really such a coward you can't say 'no' to someone you don't even like?"

"She was much nicer when I came back."

"Oh, and I wasn't nice?! I was so worried about you and I really wanted to know what was going on. I came to the hospital so many times. I sat by your bed and _talked_ to you." Her voice cracked.

"I know..."

"You _knew_?" A tear rolled down her cheek. "And yet, you still gave me the cold shoulder when you came back? I thought at first that you were mad at me for causing this whole mess, but when you wouldn't listen to my apology, I just thought you were cruel. I felt so stupid afterwards, when you ran off with her instead."

"I know..." he whispered. "I'm really sorry. I thought that I needed to cut everyone out of my life who tried to get me to talk about my past. I thought it would help me get better faster. And I was so sure you would hate me for all I had done in my first life. Claire made me feel safe because she never asked me anything about myself."

"No surprises there," Mette muttered, wiping away her tears. "Why on earth should I hate you, though?"

"I figured you had probably heard about everything I had done. Back in my old life."

"How would I all of a sudden have heard about that?"

"I told it all to Xanimus. I thought maybe he would talk to people at St. Mungo's about it and it would travel from there."

"Xanimus is more professional than that! I haven't heard anything."

"I just didn't want you to judge me," he mumbled, "so I avoided you."

"Severus," she said. Hearing his name in her voice let a speck of light flicker up in his heart. Only now did he realize that no one had addressed him by his name in weeks. "If you want to avoid that people you care about judge you unfairly, you need to tell them your side of the story. Otherwise they will just fill in the gaps themselves."

"So, you don't know anything about my past?"

"No. I realized, of course, that something was up, just from the way the teachers who still knew you treated you. But I didn't care. Last year, I really liked you and just I wanted to get to know you. I didn't care about your past because I liked the person you were right then and there. But now... now I do want to know what happened during the war. Can you please just tell me what messed you up like this?"

He shook his head.

"Why not?"

"You will not want to talk to me ever again."

"Let me be the judge of that, okay?"

"I know it. It will be so."

"Severus, if you don't try, you can't win. I'm here. I want to know. I want to know _you_."

"Why?"

"Because last year, I saw someone who was sweet and considerate. I had a wonderful time with you! That man must still be somewhere in there. Maybe, if I understand all of the mess that is covering up that person, I will be able to find him again."

Staying hidden meant being safe from judgement. But it also meant to always live at a distance from others. He had never been closer to joy than last year at Christmas. If he wanted a chance at it again, he needed to bridge the distance between Mette and himself.

He took a deep breath and said, "I can tell you everything on Saturday."

Mette's face relaxed. "Alright..." she said, then paused, and added, "You know what, no. I don't want to wait that long and give you a chance to slip away again. You can tell me the whole story on Saturday," she said when he made every sign of wanting to interrupt, "but I want to see you before that." She continued in a softer voice, "You really don't look so good... when was the last time you took a bath and had a real meal?"

"I... don't remember"

"Take a bath, then come to my office and we will have breakfast together, okay?"

He nodded mechanically.

As he went back to his quarters, shivers were racking his body, although he didn't feel cold. He'd done it. While Mette's verdict of him was adjourned until Saturday, she had invited him to come back. For now, all was not lost.

He had to admit when he looked in the mirror that Mette was right. Had he really let himself be seen like that? Using the Muggle toiletries, he cleaned himself thoroughly.

Mette's smile was cautious when she opened her office door to him half an hour later. But it was enough to make something in Severus perk up. There it was again, the flicker of light.

"Come in." she extended her arm. Her desk had been cleared and set with plates, goblets and cutlery. There were several bowls and serving plates with all kinds of dishes – beans, bacon, eggs and sausages, as well as toast, butter, honey and jam. Mette lifted her shoulders apologetically. "Too much? The House Elves were a bit over-eager."

"It's really nice," Severus said. A tiny smile worked its way onto his face. "Thank you."

They ate in silence for a while. The food was incredibly delicious.

There was something else he needed to get out of the way, even if it meant disturbing the fragile peace between them yet again. Cautiously, he said, "I'm sorry about the auction at Borgin and Burkes. Did you... get the taaffeite?"

"No, but... it's okay." Her smile seemed forced. A burning feeling of guilt rose in him like bile. "No, really," Mette said, stooping a little so she could look at his face. "Don't worry about that now. I'll figure it out later." After a pause, she said, "Did you hear one of the Thestrals of the herd in the Forbidden Forest died?"

A little surprised by the sudden change of topic, he nonetheless answered, "No, I didn't hear. Was it ill?"

The conversation got easier from there. Mette made sure to only touch on light, conversational topics. When she had to leave for her lessons, he reflected on his incredible luck. She didn't hate him. What was more, she seemed willing to give him another chance.

But it might all go away as quickly as it had come back when he told her everything. Sleep did not come easily that night. He tossed and turned, thinking about Saturday. Where would he begin to explain? What would he say? He remembered telling everything to Xanimus right after waking up at St. Mungo's, but that had been very different. He had still been dazed from his stupor. Also, Xanimus had an air of emotional detachment about him. He had been kind and helpful, but always professionally undisturbed about what he had witnessed and what Severus had told him.

With Mette, something was actually at stake. He wanted her to understand how his life had led him down that path. Doubts gnawed on him. _I could have stopped, turned back, made different decisions._ That's what she would probably say as well. Could he be forgiven? He had two days to come up with a way to explain himself to her.

Going to sleep seemed impossible at this point, so he decided to get up and write down an account of his life. He wrote until the early morning hours, putting in everything he felt might be relevant. As the sun came up, he finally found sleep.

When he woke up in the afternoon, he read through his account. The tale was feeble and pathetic. He crumpled up the parchment and rested his face in his hands. There had to be a more neutral way to tell his story, one less tainted by his desire to explain away his responsibility.

He tried again, switching off his thoughts and scribbling whatever came into his mind as quickly as he could. Once again, he worked until the early morning, then went to sleep.

As he picked up the parchment after waking up, he was afraid of what he would see.

_Ramblings of a madman_. With an angry slash of his wand, the scrolls of parchment crumpled, blackened, and turned to ash. He had nothing. He would stand there tomorrow, stammering, trying to make her understand, and come woefully short.

Pacing his office, grinding his teeth, he tried to think of another way. Could he ask other people to tell Mette what they knew about him? No, their knowledge would be based on rumours and second-hand accounts. If only Legilimency worked two ways, he could just let her inside his head and—

He stopped his pacing. The perfect solution had just presented itself.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Come in," the Headmistress answered when he knocked on her door. She looked up from her work and said surprisedly, "Severus! To what do I owe this visit?"

Her look was critical, just short of being irritated. Severus became suddenly very aware that he had caused her great inconveniences. He took a steadying breath.

"First, I wanted to apologize for all the trouble I've caused. That I can't teach and—"

"Your inability to teach is not your fault," Minerva said sharply. Her words seemed at odds with her demeanour.

"And about Claire—"

"It is astounding, Severus, how you manage to miss the greatest mistake you have made in the past few weeks."

He was at a loss.

"You have had a traumatic experience – again – and yet, you refuse treatment – again! When will you learn to see who is trying to genuinely help you and accept that help?"

"That's why I'm here," he quickly said.

He explained to her what he wanted to do. She listened until he was finished, then quietly said, "It's a start, at least. Do you trust Mette enough to do this? You are giving her the power to judge you completely. There will be no going back from it."

"That's what I want."

Minerva glanced at a clock standing against the wall. "I will leave my office at ten o'clock tonight. You will have until lunch tomorrow."

Severus thanked her and went back to the dungeons, where he sat and waited nervously until it was time to go upstairs.

* * *

This was one of my favourite chapters to write! More will be coming :) It's time for Severus to heal.  
Leave a fave or a review if you liked it, feel free to message me with questions, and subscribe!


	29. Chapter 29:My Life Lies Before You - pt1

The door clicked shut behind him. He was alone. Minerva had set out the shallow, oval stone basin on a small table by a wall. The pearly liquid was still, for it was empty, waiting to be filled with memories.

Severus exhaled, took out his wand and placed its tip on his temple. One of his earliest memories flickered before his mind's eye. _My mother sits on the floor, holding her hand to the side of her face. My father stands before her, towering._

The memory became painfully clear for a moment, then left his brain, pulled out by his wand, leaving behind a shadow of itself and easing the pain that it had caused him. Another memory, one that he didn't know he still had, followed in its wake and, quite out of his control, flowed out of his temple. Together, the memories gathered as a wavering, gleaming string of magic at the tip of his wand. Bemused, he lowered them both into the Pensieve.

When he brought his wand back to the side of his head, the memory he had planned on extracting next stayed at the back of his mind, while a different one came forward and let itself be extracted. He couldn't stop it. Apparently, his wand was making some of its own decisions as to which memories to use. Should he be concerned? Was his wand malfunctioning, were some dark powers at work here? But it felt right to surrender some of the control. It took away the pressure of having to make all the decisions himself.

After a while, the process became intuitive. The wand and he worked together to weave a story as complete and unbiased as possible. Some of the memories filled him with terrifying shame as they flew past his inner eye, but he trusted his wand's wisdom.

After several hours, he looked into the mass of fleeting images that were now swirling around the silvery liquid. This was it. For a second, he felt a mad urge to throw the Pensieve off its table, to run and never come back. But he remained still. Now he had to wait until morning.

He sat in the Headmistress's chair, watching the second hand of the grandfather clock. Bouts of nervousness alternated with rushes of fear. _I must be crazy._

Until he could wait no longer. He had to get Mette. It was three-thirty in the morning and he had no idea where her house was, but waiting for what could be his execution was driving him mad. He got up and left the office, ran down the spiral staircase and out the front door.

He jogged down the path to Hogsmeade. He had not put on a cloak to keep the cold March night at bay. Shivering, he arrived at the village and started looking around at the cottages, trying to find anything out of the ordinary about them, anything that betrayed a Muggle lifestyle.

He turned into the first alley, walking fast, quickly scrutinizing every single house. All of them were dark. There was nothing setting one house apart from the other. He turned into the next street, and the next. Nothing. Maybe the house was inconspicuous from the outside. Maybe he would just have to wait until morning.

No, he couldn't. He might spend his time searching for her house in vain, but at least it would give him something to do.

Finally, he saw a tiny, blue light shine through the window of one of the houses. He looked inside and saw a small digital clock in the front of a kitchen appliance. He checked the door. There was a label saying "M. Vestergaard".

Now he was here, it seemed utterly foolish to wake her in the small hours of the morning. But the waiting was killing him. He stretched out his hand to knock, but pulled it back. He stretched it out again, hesitated, and rapped against the door three times. Nothing happened. He knocked again. Waited. A light came on inside. He took a deep breath. The door opened just a fraction.

"Mette? It's Severus," he said. She opened the door a little wider and peered at him through half-closed eyes.

"Is everything okay? What time is it?" she mumbled. Severus felt a pang of shame when he saw her tousled hair and the imprint that her pillow had left on her right cheek.

"Um, about a quarter past four, I think," he said meekly.

Mette groaned. "Why are you here? Did something happen?"

"No, I... couldn't wait any longer."

Mette opened her eyes a little wider and took in his appearance, with his arms wrapped around his chest and his breath coming in small clouds of condensation. "Come in, you're freezing," she said and opened her door all the way. "Could you take your shoes off? Here's a pair of slippers."

He did as he was asked. "These are my size," he said.

"Yeah, well..." she seemed much more awake all of a sudden, "I always have a couple pairs in different sizes. For guests."

"That seems odd." Also, there were no other pairs, as far as he could see.

"It's a Norwegian thing, I guess," she said hastily and turned away. Severus followed her through a door and into her living room. They sat down, Severus in an armchair, Mette on the foremost edge of her couch. "You want to tell me everything right now? Wait, let me make coffee before you start."

"Actually, I will not tell you."

Mette threw him a look of exasperated disbelief.

"No, no," Severus quickly said, "I'm not telling you because I will show you."

She frowned, saying, "What are you talking about?"

"Please, will you come to the castle with me?"

"You're making me curious. Yes, I will come, let me just throw something on real quick." She disappeared into another room. When she reappeared, she was wearing a pair of jeans and a jumper she had evidently put on over her pyjamas. She threw him some black, woollen thing. He caught it and unfolded it; it was a knitted jumper. "This should fit you," she said with a crooked smile. It was not exactly his style, but he pulled it over his head nonetheless.

They walked up to the castle side by side in silence. He was too nervous to speak and Mette was probably too tired. Or maybe she did not want to risk anything by asking the wrong questions again.

They arrived in Minerva's office. Severus walked to the small table where the Pensieve was and stood beside it, feeling apprehensive and weirdly formal.

Mette looked at him bemusedly, asking "What is this?"

"It's a Pensieve. Wizards can use it to store thoughts and memories they extract from their minds. It helps to see one's own thoughts from a different perspective. Or, it can be used to allow others to experience memories as if they had been present when they were made." He took a deep breath, then continued, "I have put in all the memories I think are relevant. I tried to leave nothing out. It's ready."

"For what?"

"For you."

"What do I do with it?"

"You go in. You will be inside the memory, able to walk alongside the people in it and witness what they see and do."

"Are you coming with me?"

"No. I can't. I'm sorry. I will wait here for you."

"How do I get back out?"

"When you saw all memories, the Pensieve will release you."

Hesitatingly, Mette walked towards the basin. Putting her hands beside it, she gazed into the depths of his memories. She gave him one last look, then slowly lowered her face until her nose almost touched the liquid. In an instant, she was gone.

Severus sat down in the Headmistress' chair, but soon found he could not be still. He bit his nails and paced around the room; sat down again; got up again. What if she thought him narcissistic, wallowing in self-pity? Maybe his childhood and adolescence had not been as bad as he thought they were, maybe his recollection was just twisted. And Mette would witness first-hand all the terrible things he had done. No amount of bullying could justify any of that, could it?

He had to go in and get her out.

But then, all would have been for nothing. No, she had to see all of it. _Then, at least, she will know. And she will despise me._ He cursed himself for running down to her house in the spur of the moment. He should have planned for it better, should have explained beforehand, should have prepared her. She would see how his actions had led to the destruction of an innocent family.

He stopped his pacing, the gravity of his last thought trickled through his mind. There was nothing he could possibly say to her to explain what he had done. He had been mad with rage, the wish for petty revenge, and an utterly false sense of power. There was no excuse in the world for that.

He was losing his mind with agony. Finally, he gave in and went to the Pensieve. His nose was only inches from it when he thought, _It doesn't matter. She will leave and I will go back to the life I knew. I will live. I will be alone. Maybe that's what is necessary for me to be happy, just cease all struggles, and be alone._

The thought was consoling, an old friend. All he would have to do was to build the walls back up. He knew how to build those walls. In fact, all this time, he had had to strain to keep them down. Building them was easier than anything else in the world. Behind his walls, he was invisible, safe.

He had been struggling to keep himself open to other people. First, because he didn't know any better. Then, because Lily had urged him to. But Lily could be wrong. His outward appearance of hatred kept the enemy at bay, kept everyone at bay, himself included. Yes, this was what he would do. It was so simple. His breathing calmed. His face set itself into a cold, hard demeanour that felt natural and came easy.

He waited for Mette to get out of the Pensieve and walk through the door, away from him. It would all be over soon. He sat down. Ten minutes passed. Suddenly, a rogue thought flashed up in his mind. _I wonder which memory she is seeing right now._ Apparently, his walls weren't as thick as they used to be. His heartbeat quickened. _It doesn't matter what she's seeing or thinking. The outcome will be the same. she will leave._ His pulse calmed.

_She looked so happy when we watched— No. Stay strong._

She had forgiven him for cutting her out of his life and turning to Claire instead. Maybe that meant she could forgive him his past errors as well? But no, that was too much to ask. Even Lily had had a limited capacity for forgiveness. Even Lily. No one could be more forgiving than her.

But hadn't he been punished enough? He'd already lived one life in darkness and despair, had already driven one loved one away. Shouldn't he get another chance, wasn't that what this life was supposed to be about?

_Loved One!_ A derisive voice cackled in his head. _There is no _love _for you!_

He jumped out of the Headmistress' chair, hands balled to fists, panting. He walked to the office door and put his hand on the handle. He'd just leave, Mette knew the way out. Last time, he couldn't be sure if she knew what he had done and would judge him for it. This time, he had made sure that she knew. And she _would_ judge him, like everyone did. Why wait around for it?

But he had to wait. Otherwise, she would probably follow him around again. He had to give her the chance to speak her mind, however devastating and infuriating it might be. Then at least, it would be over for good.

He turned back towards the desk and walked toward it slowly. His eyes fell on the face of the clock. Mette had been in the Pensieve for nearly an hour and a half. His wait would be over soon. He sat in the chair and turned his focus to his mind. To the walls. Built them up out of great stones. Shut himself off. Put his face in order. He was calm. His demeanour was cold.

A body toppled out of the Pensieve onto the office floor. Mette got to her knees and put her face in her hands, breathing heavily for a few moments. Eventually, she staggered to her feet and wildly looked around, searching for him. When he looked at her, the walls inside him got some cracks and he started to shake. What was happening to him? _Show no weakness._ He had to receive her scathing words without betraying any emotions. His upper lip curled into the beginning of a sneer. He would not let her see the torment inside.

* * *

Argh, I know, another cliffhanger! Sorry :D I'll post the next chapter soon. Until then, fave, review and subscribe!


	30. Chapter 30:My Life Lies Before You-pt2

She slowly walked towards him and looked him in the eyes for a short moment before wrapping her arms around his head and shoulders. He went stiff with shock, but she did not let go. Her warmth, her hands on his back, her lips on the crown of his head made the walls crumble. There was no stopping it, he couldn't even begin to try. His knowledge of how to build the walls had evaporated. Finally, with a quavering sigh, he put his arms around her too, pulling her a little closer.

After a long time, or maybe no time at all, she broke the embrace. She wiped her face on the cuffs of her pyjama that were sticking out of her jumper and leaned against the edge of the Headmistress' desk.

"What I saw in there... It was awful," she said quietly.

The air around him got colder. "Which part?" he asked, scared to death of the answer.

"All of it... in its own way... I'm so sorry your life went like this."

"Do you despise me?"

She shook her head, then said, "While what you did was unspeakable, I get how you came to that point. And afterwards, after... You-Know-Who went to their house... you just ceased to be. You were consumed with what you had done and did everything in your power to right the wrong. But it was very obvious you knew that it was impossible. In fact, you had died the same day Lily did."

Severus sharply took in his breath. But the pain at hearing Mette talk about Lily was not as terrible as he had expected.

However, one fact remained.

"It is unforgivable, isn't it?" he asked quietly.

"Maybe I'm an idiot to think so, but I believe in redemption. And something or someone else does, too. Otherwise, you would not have been given this second chance.

"You have one enemy, though, who will never stop punishing you. I saw it in there and I see it in your eyes now. Severus – you need to forgive yourself. Otherwise you will never escape this cage of self-loathing you have locked yourself into."

"No..." he whispered while he shook his head. "That's the one thing I cannot do. I need to—"

"You need to what? Keep beating yourself up? Keep reminding yourself that you don't deserve anything good? Keep pushing everyone away?"

A dry sob escaped his throat as he nodded. He buried his face in his hands. Mette came to stand by his chair and put a hand on his back, saying, "You need to try and work through all of this. If you keep running away, it will always haunt you, it will never get better. That's the thing with this kind of trauma. The only way out is through.

"I'm pretty sure Xanimus can help you. And I will be there, if you want me to. I can't do much, though, just be your friend."

"I can't have friends," Severus said hoarsely, "I hurt everyone around me. I tried to be a good person, it doesn't work."

"It will this time."

"How can you know this?" he looked up at her, daring her to answer him. But Mette didn't budge at the fire in his eyes. She said, "Because we're not fifteen anymore. And you are conscious of what's going on. And I think you actually want to try and work on yourself."

"I will do something or say something horrible again. I'm just not—"

"Stop it. If anything happens, I will try to not take it too personally. Please, Severus – let's move forward from here. I want to go with you." She stretched out her hand. After a moment's hesitation, he took it. She pulled him up so they stood opposite each other, still holding hands. Mette blinked and let go, then laughed quietly and said, "So, I guess we should write to Xanimus. If you want to?"

He nodded.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

They put writing the letter off until the afternoon, as they both wanted to get some rest first. Severus felt like he had not slept in weeks. But today, sleep came readily.

When he awoke, he felt an odd sense of calm, as if he had survived being outside in a heavy storm. For the first time since Christmas, he felt safe, actually, truly safe – even though he knew that the next weeks, months, maybe years, would not be easy. But he also knew, finally, that this was what Lily had meant.

He had just showered and put on his clothes when there was a knock on his door. He opened it, smiling at Mette when she entered.

"So," she said, "shall we do this?"

They sat at his desk side by side, composing a letter to Xanimus. To start his letter, Severus used his newly discovered secret weapon – an apology.

"You don't even need me for this," Mette said, laughing, while Severus wrote.

"It's still nice you're here."

She gave a pleased grunt by way of reply.

The two of them went to the owlery to post the letter. Mette stood by one of the glassless windows, gazing at the lake and the mountains. After Severus had attached his letter to one of the school owl's legs, he stood next to her to release the bird. They watched it fly away together. He remembered the embrace. Had it really been only this morning? It felt too long ago.

"Now, we wait for Xanimus' reply," Mette said. "I guess he will only see the letter on Monday. Which means you have a whole day off before the real work starts! What do you want to do?"

Severus had been so preoccupied with the things inside his head for such a long time, the possibility of doing something other than brooding had not occurred to him. A sharp wind that had not yet lost the bite of winter tore at his hair and cloak. It felt good, it made him feel alive.

"We could do something outside," he said

"Like a hike?" Mette asked

"A hike sounds good. Although I don't know any trails."

"We could just start by going around the lake. It's not too far, we'll only be walking a couple of hours. Do you have proper shoes?"

He looked down at the black leather Oxford shoes he was wearing. She followed his gaze and said, "You can't wear these for a hike. And I think it's safe to assume you don't own sneakers, right?"

This earned him his third trip into the Muggle world. Severus had gotten somewhat used to Muggle shops and they quickly found a reasonably priced pair of hiking shoes. Mette thought that they looked "neutral" enough that he could wear them as leisure shoes as well, but he doubted that he would ever use them for anything other than hiking.

Thy agreed to meet for breakfast the next morning and start afterwards.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Some teachers, including Claire, were already at the breakfast table. While Claire was giving Severus the cold shoulder, she was all chirps and trills as soon as Mette arrived. Mette handed her something that looked like a couple of colourful glass vials. "Thanks, dear!" Claire said sweetly as she tossed her hair. "It'll go so great with my new necklace, don't you think?"

Severus saw Mette's face undergo a curious transformation. It went from slightly annoyed indifference to sudden recognition, to outright terror.

"Wh— where did you get this?" Mette asked.

"Oh, Kenneth bought it at a little auction a while ago. He had it cut into a teardrop shape for me. Isn't it so pretty?" Claire dangled something in front of Mette's face.

Mette had turned brick red at first, now her face got pallid white and she said between gritted teeth, "Yes, pretty. Excuse me." She came to sit next to Severus, but she just stared in front of her, gnashing her teeth and panting.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

Mette shook her head and looked like she was going to start crying any second. She breathed a few times and eventually said, "The stone."

"The...? Oh! She has it? How?"

"You heard her, her stupid boyfriend bought it from the auction!" she hissed

Severus felt a pang of guilt. If he had not refused to go to the auction with Mette... anger, mostly at himself, crept up in him. Trying to stay calm, he asked "Can you ask her to lend it to you?"

"It's no use. She had it cut to a different shape. I need the crystal to have two parallel planes. It doesn't anymore. And it's too small now, anyway."

His anger heated like an iron rod in a fire. Clenching his jaw and grabbing the edges of his seat, he tried to think of something to defend himself, to redirect the guilt to Mette. _She could have just gone by herself_. But he knew that someone without magical powers could not stand a chance at an auction in Knockturn Alley. It was his fault. He had to do everything in his power to not burst out with white-hot fury. He stared at the wood of the table in front of him, focusing on fine light and dark lines.

He had forgotten how exhausting it was to feel guilty everyday. This was what he had wanted to get away from. But numbing it, suppressing it during his weeks with Claire had only increased the violence with which it came out now. _The only way out is through._ And the path through was the one he had chosen.

Breakfast passed in a sombre mood. He and Mette still started on their hike, although Severus had to try hard not to tell her that he'd rather be alone in the dungeons. The troubled look on Mette's face didn't help matters. But he made his feet move, following her.

They did not speak much while they walked towards the lake. A path led through a gate in the walls that marked the school's boundaries. Once the path had crossed those boundaries, it turned into a narrow track.

They walked in single file for nearly an hour. The track was uneven, full of fallen trees, boulders and protruding roots. Severus soon worked up a sweat. Having to watch where he was going, ducking beneath moss-covered tree trunks and clambering over large rocks distracted him from the carousel of

thoughts turning and turning in his mind. It made the guilt bearable. Mette was just slithering in between a tree and a boulder in front of him when Severus felt compelled to speak.

"I'm sorry I refused to go to the auction with you."

Mette turned around and peered over the rock to look at him. She still looked irritated, but her expression softened.

"I sort of understand," she said. "You were – are – going through some stuff. I mean, I can't pretend that I'm not blaming you at least a little bit. Then again, I could have asked someone else. But for me, it was _our_ project. When you refused, it was like the last confirmation that you wanted nothing to do with me anymore. I was really hurt."

"I will do anything I can to find you another taaffeite."

Mette chuckled humourlessly, saying, "they are few and far between. And all in private hands, as far as I know. It might be years, even decades, before another one comes to light." She sighed and gave him a sad smile. "It is what it is. I'll find another way." She turned back around and kept making her way along the trail. Severus followed her.

After a while, Mette said, "What are the odds of Claire getting that particular stone? I mean, there must have been other jewels in that collection, and much prettier ones, too. Why would her boyfriend get that one?"

"I was wondering that, too," Severus said, relieved they could talk about someone else for a change. "Did you ever mention the taaffeite to her when you told her we were working together?"

"What do you think I am, crazy? And what do you mean, I 'told her we were working together'?"

Severus stopped in his tracks, saying, "She seemed to know all about it. She asked me if we were almost finished that one time at dinner, remember?"

"Yes, I was really surprised you would have told her about it."

"I didn't."

"Neither did I."

* * *

**A/N:** The plot thickens! And Severus has finally made a real friend :) I love all of you who write reviews, they are my life's blood! Until next time, and don't forget to fave and subscribe.


	31. Chapter 31:Secrets Revealed - part 1

"Could Claire have been in your office without you knowing?" Mette asked.

"I don't think so. Only I can unlock it," Severus said.

"Maybe she was there when we were? Invisible or something?"

"It doesn't seem likely. She would need a cloak or some very advanced magic. Most spells and so-called 'invisibility' cloaks offer more of a sophisticated form of camouflage than true invisibility."

"Like a cuttlefish or a chameleon?"

"Exactly."

"So, we would have seen her when she moved."

They were silent for a while, then Severus asked, "Could she have put something in your computer?"

"No. If I don't have it with me, I lock it in at home. I'm quite paranoid about it getting stolen because it has all my research on it, so I check on it very frequently." After a small pause, Mette chuckled and said, "Maybe Claire microchipped us or something."

"What does that mean?"

Mette shook her head, saying, "It was just a silly joke. In spy films, the hero always sticks some tiny microphone on the villain's clothes to listen in on their conversations. But I'm pretty sure they would get destroyed in the wash."

Severus frowned and slowly said, "There are ways to do things like this by magic. Did Claire ever touch you?"

"Oh, I don't know, did she ever touch you?" Mette asked sarcastically.

"Fair enough," Severus let out a humourless laugh. "We should both check ourselves for anything unusual."

"I have had a number of showers since she last touched me. I'm pretty sure anything stuck to my body would have come off by now."

"If she is using a magical device, it likely won't come off as easily as that. And she might have touched you since then, just in a less obvious way. Let me try something." Severus took out his wand and moved it around Mette's head, muttering an incantation. At first, she followed his wand with her eyes, but then switched to looking at his face. Feeling her gaze upon him made his blood rush into his cheeks and almost broke his focus on the incantation. He moved to her side, out of her immediate field of vision.

There, behind her left ear, something gleamed with a soft, blue light as he moved his wand past the spot. He ran his finger over it. Mette inhaled audibly, and softly said, "That tickles."

_Exsolvo_, Severus thought while pointing his wand at the glowing spot. A thin, colourless patch detached itself from Mette's skin. He caught it in his palm and showed it to her.

"Are you sure this is it?" she asked

He held a forefinger to his mouth. Mette pressed her lips together and nodded. Then, with a questioning look, she pointed at him. He inclined his head and proceeded to move his wand across and around his own head while Mette closely examined the skin it passed over. She tapped him on the back to signal him to stop. She helped him direct his wand to the right spot so he could detach the patch. Severus conjured up a small box into which he placed the two patches, then put it in his pocket.

He gestured for Mette to come closer. "She might still be able to hear us regardless," he whispered into her ear almost soundlessly.

She turned around, bringing her mouth close to his ear. Her warm breath brushed him when she spoke, just as softly as he had. "Let's just go back quietly then."

They exchanged a look. While the situation was serious, Severus felt a small flutter of excitement in his stomach. They were in this together.

Severus took the lead, taking big strides. He resolved that, as soon as they got back, he would find Claire and march her to Minerva. Hopefully she would get fired on the spot so he wouldn't have to see her anymore. Her, and the taaffeite around her neck, that reminder of his latest mistake.

Suddenly, Mette called his name. He turned to see her give him a fearful look. He closed the distance between them so she could whisper, "If Claire has heard everything I have heard..." She didn't need to finish her sentence. He could feel the blood drain from his face and his hands go numb.

"The Pensieve," he said tonelessly.

"Apparate. Take me with you," Mette demanded in an urgent whisper.

"I don't know if I can. It's too dangerous, I might Splinch you."

"Then go alone. I'll meet you there."

"It's too late anyway. She knows everything."

"Are we sure that's what these patches were for? Maybe they weren't hers?" Mette said.

Severus gave her a very doubtful look, to which Mette lifted her shoulders, a helpless look on her face. Severus turned and started walking again.

Finally, they entered Hogsmeade village. The only path back to Hogwarts was through it. They could already see the school gates in the distance.

Severus had just cleared the first houses, when he was blinded by a flash of lightning. He jerked up his arm to protect his eyes. Another flash, and a third. He stumbled backwards and almost tripped over Mette. A torrent of voices started up, bombarding them with questions.

"How did you resurrect yourself?"

"Is it true you sold out the Potters to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"How can you sleep at night after all you have done?"

"Have you always been fascinated by the Dark Arts?"

"How many Horcruxes did you make?"

"How does Minerva McGonagall justify allowing someone like you around Hogwarts students?"

"Do you still have your Dark Mark?"

"Is this woman your girlfriend? What is her opinion on your crimes?"

"Is it true you're a Squib?"

Severus unfroze and snarled, "Leave her out of it!" Mette pushed him from behind, shouting, "Go! Go!"

He started forward, elbowing his way through the reporters who stood three deep, cameras still flashing and enchanted quills dancing over parchment suspended in mid-air. He heard Mette's footsteps behind him. The two of them were running towards the gates, the reporters following suit. Luckily, there were too many of them and each tried to get to their prey first, which sent them stumbling over each other.

Mette and Severus did not stop running until they were in the middle of school grounds. The magic of Hogwarts repelled the reporters, most of whom had collapsed into a heap of arms, legs, and cameras. Severus and Mette stood doubled over, wheezing and gasping for air.

"Where... did they... come from?" Mette panted.

Severus tapped his forefinger to the side of his neck, where his patch had been, to indicate that he thought Claire was responsible. He jerked his head towards the castle. Mette understood and started walking again.

When they arrived at the castle, all was quiet. Apparently, no one had noticed what was going on in Hogsmeade. While they made their way down to the dungeons, Severus cast _Homenum Revelio_ before they turned any corners. The spell would show anyone in a certain radius around the caster, even through walls. They met no one on their way, but Severus kept feeling apprehensive. Claire might have some other surprise prepared for them.

As soon as they set foot into his office, Severus took an empty glass jar out of a cupboard and put the small box with the magical listening devices inside it. After he had screwed the lid back onto the jar and tapping it with his wand, he said, in his normal voice, "I enchanted this jar to be hermetically sealed. No sound can get in. We should be safe."

Mette looked like she had tasted something bitter. "I never thought Claire would go to such lengths. Why would she call those reporters on you and tell them everything?"

Severus slowly shook his head. "Not everything, I think. They would have asked different questions if they truly knew all of it."

"This is so unfair!" Mette exclaimed. "I have half a mind to go out there and set them right."

"Don't do that!"

"I won't, I know it's pointless. They will believe what they want to believe."

Severus exhaled, then said, "We need to talk to the Headmistress."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"I'm afraid all I can do on short notice is to keep members of the press a certain distance away from you two and your accommodation," Minerva said while looking over her glasses at Mette. "I do not have the authority to keep them from talking to you altogether or to forbid them from entering Hogsmeade."

"That's better than nothing," Mette said. "Thank you, Minerva."

"What about Claire?" Severus interjected.

"If you do not have any hard evidence, I'm afraid I have to regard your allegations against Professor Blanchard as baseless."

Severus clenched his jaw. "We have the listening devices. Aren't they evidence enough?"

Minerva shot him a glance. "No, Severus, they are not. How do you even know what they do? And how long have they been on your respective skins?"

Neither of them could answer her.

"And can you be sure that they have not gotten there in other ways? You spent a considerable number of days in a hospital, barely conscious. The both of you also went to different Muggle places. No, the mere existence of some strange patches behind your ears does in no way incriminate Claire Blanchard." Minerva's gaze softened. "I'm sorry," she added. "All I can do for you is to investigate those patches and see if I can find out something about their nature and origin. You better bring them to me."

Severus summoned Bimky and asked her to get the jar. Minerva promised that she would do her best to find out what the patches were for and who had handled them.

Disgruntled, Mette and Severus descended the stairs.

"What now?" Mette asked.

"I suppose we wait," Severus said.

"Wait? No, can't you do something? Can't you confront Claire?"

"Minerva is right. Technically speaking, we cannot know whether it really was Claire."

Mette stopped walking, "You _don't_ think it was her?"

"I do. I'm just saying we can't prove it."

"That one time, you told me about that potion, Veritaserum? Can't you—"

"It's illegal. Also, I don't have any, and it takes a long time to make."

Mette groaned, "I know you're right, I just wish we could speed things up. I just want to..." She sighed and gave him a quick look before turning her eyes to the floor. "Anyway... Would you like to spend some time together? I don't want to go back to Hogsmeade just yet. I'd like to wait for dark, maybe I can hide from the reporters then."

Severus was happy to invite her to his office. They sat and talked, mainly about Mette's work as a biophysicist. Severus stopped calling it "Muggle science" in his head. At the ground level, it was indistinguishable from wizard science.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

On Monday, just as Mette had predicted, a letter from Xanimus arrived, saying how pleased he was to hear that Severus wanted to continue his treatment and that he, Xanimus, would come to Hogwarts the following day.

Xanimus and Severus met in the old classroom, just like before. How innocent Severus had been all those months ago, in his state of oblivion! Now, he was guilty beyond measure. Would Xanimus act differently now that he had had time to reflect?

When the Healer arrived, Severus stuck out his hand for him to shake. A shadow of confusion passed over Xanimus' face when he shook the offered hand.

"You're very formal today," he said with a small smile.

"Well, I wasn't sure if you... how you... It wasn't right to refuse treatment after I woke up at the hospital," he blurted out.

"I wouldn't call it 'not right'. More like, 'not smart'. But we're here now, and that's what counts!" Xanimus smiled. "Now, why don't you tell me how you've been coping with your memories the last few days."

"Both better and worse. It's been a little easier because I've been talking to Mette. But yesterday, it got much worse again."

"Did something happen?"

Severus told him about the reporters and his suspicions toward Claire.

Xanimus asked, "So, there are people out there, in the world, who might know intimate details from your life. In what way is this a problem for you?"

Severus frowned, saying, "Isn't it obvious? They are reporters, they will write about me in the newspaper! And that means that soon, everyone will know. And they will judge me."

"So?" Xanimus asked.

The Healer's cluelessness was infuriating. "I don't want to be judged. I don't want to explain everything to everyone, it's impossible! I can't even justify it to myself! It took me a long time to find a way to tell Mette, but she's...Mette."

"How did you explain it to her?"

Severus told the story of the Pensieve and how his wand had chosen many of the memories of its own accord.

"Giving her a full account of your deeds... That was a courageous thing to do," Xanimus said. "I assume she interpreted what she saw in your favour, since you two are speaking again?"

Severus thought for a minute, then said, "I don't think so. It was more like... she accepted that I had done all those things. But she can forgive me because I am trying to work on myself."

Xanimus nodded slowly. "Not many people would see it this way. They might either condemn you forever, or, if they want to stay on good terms with you, would find a way to convince themselves that none of it was really your fault. You are lucky to have a friend who sees you for who you are."

"I know," Severus said. "I can finally appreciate that."

Xanimus said, "It's safe to assume that none of those reporters will do you the same favour."

"Exactly, they won't. I finally feel like I can maybe move on from what I have done. I want to get better. I want to live a real life. But they will never let me do this. I will have to spend my life justifying myself to them, over and over, and it will never be enough."

"You don't have to explain yourself at all if you don't want to."

"But... I can't just let them make up whatever story they want!"

"They will always do that, no matter how much you explain. There will always be those who don't believe you or have their own logic about how to judge and interpret your actions. You need to stick to the people you trust and stop caring about the opinions of those who want to tear you down."

Severus jumped up and started pacing. "I thought the whole point of this second life was for me to be content! To not be the person hated by everyone! Now this—" he bit back the word he wanted to say – "_Claire_ has given the world all the weapons they will ever need to condemn me!"

Xanimus looked at him thoughtfully, then said, "Let me tell you something: I've seen and heard a lot of people's stories during my training as a Healer. In my experience, most people regard their own moral principles very highly, but have no idea how quickly those principles would deteriorate if they were placed under such dire circumstances as you were. People are quick to judge – especially those who know nothing about themselves – because they don't realize what they themselves are capable of. The verdict of strangers does not shape your life. You decide who is in your life and gives it form."

Severus stopped his pacing. "It's not that simple."

"No, it's extremely hard. But not impossible."

"Minerva will want me to start teaching here again. My past will cause all kinds of problems!"

"Who says you have to start teaching again?"

* * *

Poor Sev, fighting battles on several fronts! Let's hope they don't take another toll on his friendship to Mette. Subscribe so you'll never miss a new chapter!  
Thanks so much for reading again! Leave a fave or a review if you enjoyed it :)


	32. Chapter 32: Secrets Revealed - part 2

The sessions were just as excruciating as before; Xanimus did not give him a break. Severus had to repeatedly revisit memories, put words to emotions that no words could describe, and dig into his deepest subconscious to answer the Healer's penetrating questions. But he kept at it, never backing down or giving in. He had a reason now to work through all of this. The end of the sessions usually saw him hungry and tired, but also strangely uplifted.

Claire, in the meantime, had apparently finally decided to forget about the day he had thrown her out of his office. Today, she even winked at him from where she was sitting at the teachers' table. When Professor Sinistra, who had sat next to Severus, vacated her chair, Claire had the audacity to come sit next to him.

"Hi there," Claire said. He could hear Mette groan softly on his other side. Severus scrutinized Claire's expression, but could find no traces of guilt. He considered using Legilimency on her again, but she had already turned her gaze back to her dinner plate. "How have you been?" she asked.

"I don't think that's any of your business," Severus said coldly.

"Ooooh, come on, let's not dwell on the past! It's all water under the bridge, isn't it?"

he curled his lip and didn't answer.

"Anywayyy, Minerva told us about some situation in Hogsmeade the other day? Some reporters ambushing you or something? That must have been terrible! Are you holding up okay?"

He still said nothing. Claire laid her hand on his arm and gently said, "Hey, if there is anything you need, don't hesitate to ask. I consider myself your friend, even if you can be a little... trying."

Severus looked at Claire in disbelief. She smiled brightly and cocked her head. He could positively feel the exasperation radiating from Mette's side. "What could you hope to do for him?" Mette asked acidly. Severus was afraid that Mette might snap and confront Claire about the patches right here and now.

Claire tossed her long hair, shifted her gaze to Mette and said, "I do know a lot of influential people. I'm also not too bad at liaising and can be quite persuasive." She turned back to Severus, "I could talk to those reporters for you." Her eyes bored into his. Now would be the perfect time to penetrate her mind. But when he tried, he realized it was very hard without his wand in his hand. He had gotten rusty. "What do you say?" Claire asked.

"No." Severus turned back to his plate.

Claire tutted, "you're making a mistake. Not talking to them will not stop them from writing stories about you."

Mette piped up again. "Yes, we were wondering how they even knew all these things about him!"

_Oh no, here it comes._

Claire scoffed "'We', is it? How sweet! And how should I know how they knew?" Claire and Mette stared at each other, subjecting Severus to the crossfire. "Sweetie," Claire said, her voice laced with toxic honey, "I don't know why you would antagonize me like this. I'm just trying to help here. And as opposed to you, I can actually offer some viable options!" To Severus, she said, "Come see me when you've made up your mind to actually do something about the situation." She smiled at Mette one last time, playing with the taaffeite on her nacklace and cheerfully said, "Bye!" before she left.

Mette looked daggers after her. "As if it was so simple! What would she even say to them? 'I know important people'," she imitated Claire in a high-pitched voice. "And how she played with her necklace! She knows I needed the stone, she got it on purpose! And why is she even still here? She spied on us and ratted you out!"

"Remember, we still have no actual proof." Severus was strangely relieved about how the situation had played out. Maybe Claire was innocent. If he was honest, he'd much rather not know who had spied on him and Mette. After all, they would have to interact with Claire as long as the three of them were all in the castle. This would be much easier if Claire was not the spy. Out loud he said, "Maybe we should give her the benefit of the doubt."

"Oh, really! You're a big help!" Mette snapped and got up, leaving him there.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

That night, he dreamed about the Valentine's Day party. Kenneth had the taaffeite around his neck and Severus could see his own memories reflected in all its facets. As he tried to look closer, the reflection changed. Now it was Severus' face, reflected a hundred times in the gemstone. When he looked up, he saw that Kenneth had changed into Mette. She had her hands on his cheeks and was screaming. He woke up.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

When he told Xanimus about the dream, the Healer thought that it was his sub-conscience's way to express his guilt towards Mette. The explanation made sense, but nonetheless, something did not feel quite right about it.

Severus kept thinking about the dream all day and finally decided to remedy the fact that he had cost Mette the taffeite. He would not be able to find another taaffeite, but he had a different idea. He would need materials, and some help, but he knew where to get both.

That same evening, he went down to Hagrid's hut. He could not remember ever having been there. Consequentially, Hagrid's expression when he opened his door to find Severus standing in front of it went from surprised to suspicious.

"Good evening," Severus said politely.

"Evenin'," Hagrid mumbled, then anxiously peered left and right as if to check that there was no one else with Severus. The gamekeeper scrutinized his unexpected guest with narrowed eyes. "Did you want somethin'?" He asked.

"Yes, I want to ask your help. May I come in?"

After a momentary hesitation, Hagrid stood back to admit him. Severus could feel the gamekeeper's stare on the crown of his head as he walked past him.

Hagrid stood in the middle of his cabin, wringing his large hands.

"You, er, want some tea or somethin'?"

"No, thank you, I don't want to bother you for too long."

Hagrid made a noise that Severus interpreted as an expression of relief. The gamekeeper sat down on a large chair and gestured for his guest to take one of the normal-sized ones.

Severus sat down and looked around at the various items hanging from the ceiling. There was meat on hooks, dried herbs and flowers, but also more curious things like unicorn hairs and what looked like the pincers of a giant insect or spider.

"What was it you needed help with?" Hagrid asked, while avoiding to look directly at Severus.

"I heard that a Thestral died not too long ago in the Forbidden Forest."

"Aye. What's it to you?"

"Were you very fond of that particular animal?"

Hagrid shot him another searching look before answering, "I know every single member of that 'erd very well. This one 'ad been the dominant mare for many years. Got replaced by a younger 'un recently. Died soon after."

"Did you bury her?"

"On'y after I got some of the organs out, and 'er skin. Mighty useful, Thestral skin is. Soft as silk and tough as pig's leather."

This was what Severus had hoped to hear. "I was wondering whether I could buy some Thestral skin from you. I only need a very small amount."

"What for?"

"I want to test it as a Potions ingredient."

The gamekeeper seemed to accept this explanation, as he stood up from his chair and heavily walked to a chest in the corner of his cabin. He opened it and took out a large, impossibly thin sheet of shiny black leather. He laid it on the table and Severus moved his hand across the material. It was so smooth Severus barely felt that he was touching it. He smiled and nodded.

"How much would a piece of this size cost?" Severus indicated the size he wanted with his thumbs and forefingers.

"I'd say nine Galleons should do it."

Severus took his coin pouch out of his pocket and counted out nine Galleons, whereupon Hagrid cut a piece out of the Thestral hide with a sharp, curved knife.

"Lemme know how it's doin' as an ingredient," Hagrid said when Severus left the cabin. Severus gave a curt nod and said goodbye.

There was someone else he needed to contact before he could carry out his plan. He had to be patient for a few days, but eventually, Severus left Hogwarts by Portkey on a Saturday afternoon.

He almost managed to land gracefully, had it not been for a rogue root that stuck out of the forest floor just where he touched down. Hastily looking around to check if anyone had seen him, he got up and cleaned off the wet pine needles that stuck to his hands and knees. His Muggle jacket would allow him to walk through the small mountain town without attracting any unwanted attention. He found his way easily; Xanimus had drawn him a crude map.

When Severus arrived outside the tea shop, he could see his hostess for the evening through the window. Ragna waved and smiled at him while she walked towards the door to open it. This time, Severus had to endure a hug from her.

"Welcome back!" she beamed. She scrutinized him for a second and said, "You look different, somehow. How's your memory doing?"

"It's all back."

"Oh, that must be terrible, no? But I suppose it's for the best. Nothing you can't handle, I'd assume."

She didn't wait for his answer, but hurried through her shop and along the narrow corridor to her workshop. Severus followed her. When he entered the workshop, he saw that Ragna had cleared a portion of her workbench and laid out a number of small tools.

"This is exciting!" she said, "I have never worked with Thestral leather before. We will use as little magic as possible. The more hands-on, the more love is in the final piece, I like to think."

And so, they set to work. Ragna explained the use of the tools and how to go about what Severus was planning to make. She had some very useful suggestions for its final shape as well. After a number of hours, the result of their work lay before them. Pleased with the outcome, Severus could hardly wait to go back to Hogwarts.

It was late when he finally arrived at his quarters. He quickly took a shower and brushed his teeth. Once in his bed, he instantly fell asleep.

The dream had changed. He was in Mette's body and the person opposite him, wearing the necklace, looked exactly like himself. He laid his hands, Mette's hands, onto the Severus opposite him. "I have damage," the other Severus said. "Can't you see that I have damage? And now you have damage too!"

His own screaming woke him up. He sat up straight in his bed. _I have been a fool!_ He checked the time – it was five o'clock in the morning. Late enough. He jumped out of bed and hastily put on his clothes. What he had to tell Mette could not wait any longer.

* * *

Exciting things are going to happen! Subscribe so you'll never miss a new chapter and, as always, thanks for reading, my lovelies :-* You'd make me so happy if you left a fave or review!


	33. Chapter 33: The Gift - part 1

To Severus' surprise, Mette opened her front door less than a minute after he had knocked. She looked perfectly awake, although she was still wearing her pyjamas.

"Good Morning," she said with an inquiring smile. "Come in. Don't forget to take your shoes off."

"I was blind," Severus said while attempting to change into the slippers, which was hindered by his excitement.

"How so? Come sit down first. You want some coffee?" Mette walked through the door that led to her living room, while Severus still struggled with his shoelaces. An instant later, he heard a cupboard open and close, and ceramic clinking.

"It's not a potion you need." Severus called. "It's not a version of Seeing what you experience."

Something shattered and Mette swore. Severus, who had finally managed to change into the slippers, hurried into the kitchen. Ceramic shards lay on the floor in a dark brown puddle. Mette stood by the sink and let water run over her right hand.

"You took me by surprise," she said with a grimace. "I missed the coffee mug."

Severus waved his wand, instantly making the shards reunite to form a mug; the spilled coffee disappeared. "Did you burn yourself? Let me see."

Mette held out her hand to him. He folded back his cloak and got a small vial out of a pouch on his belt. Supporting her hand in his, he let a single drop of the vial's contents fall onto the angry red spot.

Mette's eyes widened. "Oh... it's gone!"

"Yes. Essence of Dittany," Severus explained.

"Handy, that." She gestured at the pouch on his belt.

"Just a few potions for emergencies." Severus put back the Dittany, then went to the kitchen counter and poured coffee into the mug. He handed it to Mette.

They walked back into the living room. Mette sat down on the armchair, Severus took the couch.

"If it's not Seeing, then what is it?" she asked.

"It's a form of Legilimency."

"Pardon?"

"Legilimency is the art of penetrating someone's mind and interpreting what one finds there."

Mette squeezed her eyes shut as if trying to process this information. "So I'm... involuntarily reading people's minds?"

"Not quite. I wouldn't call Legilimency 'mind-reading' to begin with, it's more complex than that. You see, some people think in words, but others think in images or scenes, others again think in any combination of abstract shapes, colours or sounds. And there rarely is only one train of thought in each person's head. Some thoughts are more subtle, some more obvious, but they all happen at the same time. And then, there are emotions underlying all of this. Perceiving exact emotions is a very difficult feat for a Legilimens to master, because emotions don't normally express themselves in any clearly interpretable way.

"But you seem to be tuned into that very part of people's mind - their emotions. Only, you don't perceive the immediate feeling that the person is having at that moment. Instead, you feel the emotions that have carved themselves deeply into the person's brain and are influencing their whole lives. I presume those emotions run in the mind like a perpetual undercurrent. And you can access their origin."

"Wow." Mette let herself fall back into the seat. "That doesn't sound completely crazy. It might even make sense."

Severus nodded.

"Okay, so how do you stop being a... Legilimens?" she asked.

"I don't think people who are born with the skill can cast it off. But you can learn to control it."

Mette sighed. "Great, now I have to find someone who can teach me to control my stupid gift. Back to square one." She looked at the ceiling in frustration.

Severus' heart starting beating faster. "I'm here!" he said.

Mette said, without taking her eyes off the ceiling, "That's nice, Severus. Does that mean you'll help me find someone?"

"No, I meant, I'm someone. I'm the someone."

Now, Mette did look at him, her brows knitted.

"I mean, I'm a Legilimens and can teach you," Severus finally managed to say.

Mette sat up. "You are? Are you serious? Why did that never come up?"

Severus shrugged. "I haven't thought about it too much myself until recently."

"Wait, are you sure you can still do it? Have you tried it at all?"

With the slightest frown, he said, "I have tried it and I can still do it." He omitted the fact that he could only do it with a wand in his hand. In his past life, looking someone in the eyes had been sufficient.

"But... that's great! Wow, I can't believe it! You were the solution all along, I just looked at you from the wrong angle." She jumped up, beaming. "Can we start straight away? Like, now?"

A load dropped off Severus' shoulders; this was the reaction he had hoped for. He could, after all, help her in her endeavour. Plus, he would finally be able to redeem himself for not helping her get the taaffeite. Nonetheless, he had to slow her down. "This won't be easy. You should be well-rested. And, um... you need a subject, someone to put your hands on..."

"Oh," Mette said and blushed. "Couldn't that be you?"

Severus swallowed. A part of him had hoped she would want to use him as a subject, but he knew it was a bad idea. He slowly shook his head "You saw what happened in my past life... the emotions would be... extreme."

Mette looked up only for a split second, then cast her eyes down at her carpet again. "I know. But I can't imagine doing this with anyone else. You showed me so much trust when you let me see all your memories. I trust you too." Her voice had gotten very quiet.

Severus had to rein himself in not to smile like an idiot.

"Also," Mette continued, "wouldn't my training be most effective if I'm dealing with strong emotions?"

Severus sighed heavily. It was a bad idea. But he couldn't help himself. "We can try it once. If it's too hard, we will need to find someone else as a subject for you."

"Great! So, this afternoon?"

"You're reminding me of a certain person who 'won't take No for an answer'." he said, but not unkindly.

"Hey!" Mette laughed and gave him a light punch on the shoulder.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

He went back to Mette's flat in the afternoon. The second he passed the boundary between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, people jumped out of the alleys and started shouting at him. He turned on his heels and ran back through the gate. As he stood a foot away from the boundary of the school grounds, he realized that it was the reporters again. They were apparently willing to wait around Hogsmeade all day on the very slight chance of catching him. He took a deep breath and marched out into the village, looking neither left nor right. The questions they shouted were the same as before. But as promised by the Headmistress, they kept a distance to him. He hurried to Mette's house and as soon as she admitted him, the reporters fell back.

When he entered the living room, Mette was breathing deeply and rubbing her palms on her trousers.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Severus asked. Mette nodded quickly. They sat down opposite each other. "Before you use your gift on me, you should practice focusing your mind on something, like your breath. I will only let you lay your hands on me once you've learned to completely keep your focus and not let yourself be distracted."

As he said this, he remembered his Occlumency potion. He had not thought about it since the day he had thrown Claire and Kenneth out of his office. Hence, he had never brewed it in its final state.

"Focus on my breath, like during meditation?" Mette interrupted his thoughts in a matter-of-fact voice.

"I... have never tried meditation, but from what I've heard, some of the techniques used during meditation seem to be related to Occlumency." _Should I tell her about the potion?_

"What's Occlumency?"

"It's the opposite of Legilimency, if you will. It allows you to close your mind to someone who is trying to penetrate it. Your case is somewhat twisted, as you are trying to keep yourself from doing Legilimency. But it's a good place to start nonetheless."

"I can focus on my breath," Mette said with confidence. "Should I do it right now?"

"Yes."

She closed her eyes, laid her hands on her thighs and moved her head gently from side to side as if trying to find a good position. Then, she exhaled and became still. Her breath was flowing calmly and slowly, her body rocking ever so slightly with every inhale and exhale. After a short while, she said in a calm, steady voice, "How do you know that I'm doing it right?"

"I... suppose I will have to trust you."

"You could check, couldn't you? Whether I'm not getting distracted?"

He'd thought about this. "I'm not sure I'd feel comfortable to invade your mind."

"No, I'd like a challenge," Mette said, "Will you have to look me in the eyes?"

"Yes, but-"

Mette had already opened her eyes and looked at him, or rather, through him, with an unfocused gaze. Putting his misgivings aside, Severus returned her gaze. Her eyes were the colour of moss, a deep green so dark, the casual observer would think it was brown. _Focus_, he called himself to order.

He entered her mind. While Claire's train of thought had been shrill and wild, sounds and images chasing and overlapping each other, Mette's mind presented him with a soft murmuring, almost like water running over stones. The sounds, images and scenes that would usually greet a Legilimens were subdued, drifting by and dissolving soon after they emerged. Underlying her train of thought was the slow, constant rhythm of her breath. Coming and going, everlasting, ever repeating. She was doing it right, that much was clear. He was amazed at how well she kept her focus. Every now and then, a thought would float up and attempt to distract her, but she never let it linger, always encouraged it to move on. The Occlumency potion might have gotten rid of those fleeting thoughts, but otherwise, it would have been wasted on Mette. Once or twice, Severus saw his own face, his features softer than he had ever seen them in the mirror. But those images, too, soon went away.

He had been in her mind too long already. Gathering his willpower, he pulled back and left her alone. She seemed to notice, for a few seconds later, she closed her eyes again. After another minute, her breath deepened and she started moving. Then, her eyes fluttered open. "How did I do?" she asked.

Severus nodded, saying, "Surprisingly well. You are not new to this."

Stretching, she said, "Nah, I meditate every morning and evening. I get up especially early for it."

"This will make our task a lot easier."

Mette gave him a shrewd look, saying, "You're one of the few people who are not weirded out by my meditation practice. Don't you think I'm a spiritualistic nutjob or something?"

"No? From my point of view, it's a useful skill."

"Does this mean we can start with the real thing now?"

Severus had hoped he could put this off for a while longer. She had not been supposed to be so well-prepared. "We could try it," he said slowly.

She stretched out her hands.

"Wait," he said and leaned back, out of her reach. But he didn't know what there was to wait for. Hesitatingly, he sat up and nodded.

Mette shifted forward on her seat and exhaled. She stretched out her hands and laid them onto both sides of his neck. Her features contorted almost immediately, her mouth twisted in silent agony. Severus hastily slid back in his seat, breaking the contact. Her face returned to its normal state in an instant. She panted and looked at him with knitted brows.

"Why did you pull away?" she asked.

"You looked like you were in pain."

"Well, yes. That's what this gift does, remember?"

"I thought you were going to focus on your breath."

"I tried. But you ended it before I could really get into it. Let me try again. Stay put this time."

He pursed his lips and moved back to his previous position. Mette put her hands on his neck, with the same result as before. Severus forced himself to remain still. Then, the wailing started. It became increasingly hard to endure seeing his own, deepest pain reflected in someone else's face. When she started sobbing, he finally pulled back. This time, however, breaking contact did not seem to end her experience of his emotions. She kept wheezing and couldn't seem to breathe properly. Just like that time he had seen her in the corridor after Claire had touched her. He stared at her, momentarily at a loss about what to do. Then he remembered. _Paper bag, legs up_. With a quick wave of his wand, he conjured a bag and thrust it in her hands. He gently helped her onto the couch and propped her legs up on the armrest.

"Thanks," she said into the bag. She seemed calmer already. After about five minutes, she sat up and said, "Again."

"No, you need to rest."

"Come on, I need to get the hang of this." Her face was set.

He hesitated before he said, "I have developed a potion that can help you keep your focus. I will brew it tonight and come back tomorrow evening. In the meantime, you can gather your strength."

"No way, I don't want to be drugged for this. I can't rely on a potion. Situations where I need or want to touch someone might come up unexpectedly. And I really don't want to take anything mind-altering when I'm with someone who I _want_ to touch. I want to be completely present for that." Her face had gotten a little red, but she held Severus' gaze. "And I know I can do this. I need to try again."

Sighing, he went back into position. The third attempt did not go any better than the second, neither did the fourth.

Severus slid back in his seat again to keep Mette from diving right back in. "This won't work. I told you, the emotions I experienced back then are too strong for you to handle. They would be too strong for _anyone_ to handle!" he said, irritated.

She shook her head. A muscle jumped in her jaw and she looked at Severus with a hard, almost manic expression.

"I'm not letting you do it again," he said.

"Yes, you are. You have to. I need to master this!"

"You haven't even found a way to start getting on top of your reaction, let alone mastering it! This is insane, you need to find another way, a different subject."

"No. I want to see this through, if it takes all night!"

"I will just leave," he said, getting up.

Mette caught his hand. "Wait!" Her tone was pleading now. "Just one more time. Only once, I promise."

He clenched his jaw and looked at her. "One last time."

"Thank you," she breathed.

* * *

I hope you all had happy holidays, if you celebrated anything.  
And here I am, leaving you with yet another cliffhanger! Will Mette be able to get control over her gift? You'll find out in a few days :) Until then, fave, review and subscribe!


	34. Chapter 34: The Gift - part 2

This time, she was the one who stopped it almost right after she had put her hands on his neck. She let out a frustrated scream. "It's just— it's like a tidal wave, I can feel it right when I touch you, it just hits me and rips me away. I can't block it, I can't..." she grunted and balled her fists. "The only thing I can do is letting it wash me away, but—" Her expression changed. She stared into the space over Severus' right shoulder as if the answer was written in the air. "Let it wash me away," she murmured, "Go through it..." She looked at him, her eyes wide open. "I think I know what to do now. I need to let it happen, see it through to the end."

"That's insane," he interjected, "How do you know this will work?"

"I just... know? I can't explain it. Let me try it one more time. If this doesn't work, I will find another subject, I promise."

Severus groaned, but consented. Before she laid her hands on his neck, she said, "You must under no circumstances break the connection, understood?"

He nodded. Then, her palms made contact with his skin. It all started again, the expression of extreme grief on her face, the wailing, the sobs racking her body. It seemed to take forever and was getting almost unbearable to watch. Severus closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. More than once, he had the impulse to move himself out of her reach. But he clenched his jaw and stayed put, for better or worse.

Bit by bit, Mette's reaction diminished. Her sobbing got less frequent, her breath steadied itself and she stopped shaking. He wondered whether this meant that her theory was correct or whether she had simply tired herself out. He almost jumped when she whispered, "Put your hands on mine." When he didn't react immediately, Mette repeated her request. Eventually, he laid his palms on the backs of her hands. A curious feeling arose in his palms. Small waves spread through his arms and entered his body and mind until he felt like he was in a trance, completely serene. As he experienced this deep calm, he realized that something inside him had been tossing and turning. Now, for the first time, it went still.

They remained in silence, sitting across from each other, eyes closed, deeply connected. When Mette finally lifted her hands, the feeling she had given him stayed. He opened his eyes.

They smiled at each other for a moment. Mette asked, "Will you stay the night?"

He nodded.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

He awoke amidst a faint scent that was unfamiliar to him. The room was also brighter than usual. He looked around and, after momentary confusion, remembered that he had spent the night on Mette's couch. Quiet noises reached him from the open kitchen. He sat up on the couch and looked over its backrest. A column blocked Mette from his view. Only now did he realize that he was wearing a shirt, but no trousers. He grabbed them from the armchair on which they lay folded and hastily put them on. Finally, he dared to speak.

"Good morning," he said as he approached the counter that marked the border between the living room and kitchen.

Mette turned and quickly looked him up and down. With a crooked smile, she said, "I have never seen you in just a shirt, with no jacket on. You look good in white..." She blushed and hastily turned to the kitchen counter. "Do you want some coffee?"

"No, thanks. How are you feeling?"

She cocked her head and said, "Different. Also tired." She chuckled. "How about you?"

"'Different' is a good word to describe it." After a pause, he added, "I suppose we did not manage to give you control over your gift, though."

She turned to him, but stared into space, frowning. After a minute, she said, "I don't mind, I think. Something has changed yesterday. You showed me that I can use my gift for the benefit of the other person."

"I didn't really do anything."

"Yes, you did. You let me in." She took a step in his direction and his heart made a leap. But she merely smiled and said, "Thank you."

"What? No. I'm the one who has to thank you. I feel... calmer, deep down."

When they were both ready, they left the house together, and were immediately greeted by shouted questions. There were a number of new ones among them, Severus realized:

"Did you spend the night together?"

"Miss, what do you see in this man?"

"Are you plotting to bring back You-Know-Who together?"

Severus turned to give that riffraff a piece of his mind, but Mette grabbed him by the arm and pulled him further. When they were safely within Hogwarts grounds, Severus snarled,

"Trust them to ruin a nice morning like this."

"Why? Because they are shouting nonsense? It doesn't matter what they are saying, does it?"

Later that day, Severus discussed with Xanimus the things that had happened the night before.

"Can you describe the feeling you had afterwards in more detail?" the Healer asked.

Severus became still and focused on the part of him that had always been one thing, but now was another. "There is... a core? A nucleus? Something at the centre. Like the eye of the storm. There used to be only storm. Now there is a quiet centre."

"What is it the centre of?"

"Of me."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Severus saw Mette sitting at the teachers' table as he opened the side door leading onto the dais in the Great Hall. An emotion quite unknown to him spread from his chest. He paused for a second to examine it. _Joy_.

Was it his imagination or did the buzz of the students' voices grow quieter when he came to the table, just to flare up again more excitedly than before? He brushed the thought aside and focused solely on Mette. A smile lit up his face when she turned and saw him.

He had only just sat down when he made out a movement from the corners of his eyes. He turned to see Claire do the most curious thing. She knelt down beside his chair, looked up at him with a pained expression and laid her hand on his knee. He moved his leg away.

"Honey," Claire said softly, "You really should have talked to me! Come see me as soon as you can, okay?"

Mette moved on his other side. "What is it now?" she snapped.

"Oh..." Claire's eyes widened. "You need to get out of your love bubble! Didn't you see the _Evening Prophet_ yesterday?"

"No, why?"

A look of triumph flitted over Claire's face. Wordlessly, she produced a few pages of newspaper from a bejewelled handbag and stuffed them into Severus' hands. He awkwardly unfolded them under the table. A photograph of him running through Hogsmeade filled a quarter of the title page. Beside it, a headline was printed in huge letters.

_SNAPE HELPED YOU-KNOW-WHO INVADE HARRY POTTER'S MIND – STUDENTS IN DANGER?_

The article below ran,

_Severus Snape, whose recent "miraculous" return from the dead has raised great concerns all over the country, paved a path for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named into the mind of Harry Potter._

_Sources close to the_ Daily Prophet_ revealed that Snape was tasked by the late Albus Dumbledore to teach Potter Occlumency, the art to close one's mind from prying eyes. It has come to our attention that in the course of those Occlumency lessons, Potter's mind got more vulnerable to attacks from You-Know-Who with every passing week. It is safe to assume that ... cont. on p. 4_

Severus quickly searched for the indicated page

_...Snape was the one who gave his Dark Master access to the Boy Who Lived. Yet, at this very moment, Snape lives among the students of Hogwarts, protected by Headmistress Minerva McGonagall who seems to share her predecessor's idiotic weakness for outcasts and criminals._

_The school staff are trying to defend Dumbledore's foolish decision to let Snape teach children at the school for many years, despite Snape being a known Death Eater. Harry Potter still insists that Snape was "a hero", but was unavailable for further comments. It is probable that Snape put Potter under a spell to cover up his own shameful and despicable role during the war._

_We will keep reporting any new information that comes to light._

Like in a trance, Severus folded the newspaper into a tiny square. Someone pried it out of his hands. It had begun. His life was being made public, every occurrence in it subjected to whatever interpretation made for the most sensational headline. His stomach clenched and a tingling sensation crept up from his hands and feet. Despite discussing with Xanimus the possibility of the papers writing about him, the reality of it was unbearable.

He tried to remember the Healer's advice._ These people don't shape your life. Keep to the ones you trust._ But there were so few that he trusted and so many who would now condemn him. He forced himself to turn and look at Mette, whose eyes darted along the last few lines of the article. The shocked look on her face did not help to make him feel better. He got up, his legs hardly following his commands. "I need to leave," he said hoarsely. He staggered through the door and along the corridor. Passing students threw him fearful looks, made a wide berth around him or even turned on the spot and walked in the opposite direction.

When he arrived at the dungeon corridor, he put his back against a wall. It became painfully obvious that hearing the advice to not heed anyone's opinion was easy, but following it seemed altogether impossible. He had decided to let down his defences for Mette, but as it turned out, this meant that they were down for everyone else too.

Someone else was in the corridor. Mette, most likely. Relieved, he looked up – and saw Claire standing a few paces from him.

"Are you okay, darling? Oh, what am I saying, of course you're not okay!" she took a few steps towards him and studied his face with an earnest look. "I will go down to Hogsmeade and set them straight right now! Just say the word. Please, give me a chance, let me show you what I can do for you!"

"Severus?" a voice rang out from further away. Mette came hurrying towards them. When she saw Claire, she stopped short. "How did you get here so fast?"

"Fast?" Claire scoffed, "Hun, you took ages! Wanted to finish that dinner before you checked on your friend, huh?"

Mette frowned and blinked, then murmured, "But I left right after him. You were still there..." her voice trailed off.

"Anyway," Claire said with a hint of impatience and turned back to Severus, "Please let me do this?"

"Why would you help me?" he asked.

Claire gasped in disbelief. "Because I'm your friend! And I can actually do something to make this whole situation go away. Not just" – she threw a look at Mette – "hang on to you all the time. I'd get things _done_."

Would she really offer her help so persistently if she was responsible for this whole situation? No, she could not be trusted, she had been eavesdropping on him. Then again, there was no real evidence that it had been her. But it had to be, who else could have done it?

"Could you please leave?" he said to Claire, but without vigor.

She sighed, saying, "I see you need more time. But I should probably tell you that this isn't the first article about you. Just the first time you made the title page. Now that they've managed to dig up something interesting about you, they won't stop. They're like bloodhounds. Believe me, I know from experience." Her smile, usually overly sweet, now held something bitter. "So don't wait too long! You know where to find me." She turned and walked away.

When Claire was just out of earshot, Mette growled, "No need to find her, she always finds you first."

Severus did not answer. His hands were clammy with cold sweat. _They're like bloodhounds_ Claire had said. Maybe it was a good idea to put someone on the case who knew how to handle the situation. Claire was friends with a lot of people, he had seen it at the party. Should he have accepted her offer after all?

"Severus?" Mette's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "We need to do something to stop those reporters."

"Yes..." He hesitated. "Maybe Claire is on to something? It can't hurt to let her try, can it?"

Mette scoffed. "Are you serious? Did you forget she eavesdropped on you, on us, probably for months?"

"We don't actually know it was her."

"Don't you start with this again! How else would she have known all those things about our experiments? And the taaffeite?"

"The taaffeite could have been coincidence. And your potion... are you sure you never said anything about it? To anyone?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" Mette exclaimed angrily.

"And why would Claire offer her help if it was her who told the reporters all those things about me?"

"She's clearly after you in some twisted way, can't you see that? She probably told them so she could swoop in and rescue you."

"That seems far-fetched."

Mette raised her eyebrows, ready for an angry retort. But then, she let her hands fall to her sides and closed her eyes. "I don't want to fight," she said softly. "If we can't do anything ourselves, maybe we should talk to Minerva again tomorrow."

Severus nodded mechanically.

* * *

Sev and Mette can't seem to catch a break! Will Mette cave and let Claire help? Subscribe you don't miss anything! I'd also be suuuper happy if you wrote a review or gave the story a fave :) Until next time, my friends.


	35. Chapter 35: Press Conference - part 1

Someone pounded on the door of Severus' office early the next morning. Groggily, he got out of bed and went to open it. Minerva stood there, accompanied by Claire. The Headmistress' lips were so thin they were almost invisible.

"You need to come with me, right now," she said.

"What happened?" he asked.

"You should have listened to me," Claire said, shaking her head.

"I... what?"

"Claire, that's enough," Minerva said, and, directed at Severus, "Put on some clothes and come with me."

When they arrived at the entrance to the Headmistress' office, he was surprised to see Mette stand there. His heart sank at the sight of the newspaper in her hand. She gave him a pained smile.

The four of them walked up the spiral staircase and the three young people each took a chair in front of the Headmistress' desk. Minerva shot Mette an expectant glance, who, in turn, handed Severus the newspaper.

"This is today's issue of the Daily Prophet," Minerva said accusingly. "Read the headline!"

_SNAPE WILL STOP AT NOTHING ON HIS WAY TO POWER_

"Oh no..." his eyes raced over the article. It ran,

_Severus Snape, risen from the dead last October and former Death Eater who allegedly swore loyalty to Dumbledore, has apparently hatched a plan to grasp power over the wizarding world. He will start with the most vulnerable – our children. _

_Sources close to the _Daily Prophet_ have revealed that the former Potions Master of the school is developing a magical concoction that will give him the ability to bend everyone to his will. Snape went to London several times in the past months, likely to visit Knockturn Alley to buy dangerous and illegal ingredients for his potion. As if that wasn't enough, he is also rumoured to repeatedly have travelled to a part of Germany linked to dark, medieval witching rituals._

_He has apparently been using Muggle Studies teacher Matty Vestenguard as a guinea pig to test his potion. The young woman has been known to disappear into Snape's office within Hogwarts on numerous occasions and stay there for hours at a time. The visits might not have been voluntary. Reporters monitoring the situation at Hogsmeade village have confirmed that Snape even went to Vestenguard's accommodation on Sunday evening and did not reappear until the next morning._

_Snape, as former head of Slytherin House and Death Eater, very likely regards Vastenguard as a lesser human, given that she is a Squib, and therefore has no scruples experimenting on her. We must assume that the development of his concoction is in its final stages and will soon be ready to use on the students of Hogwarts to force them to join him in his plea for power._

_Many now demand that Snape be handed over to the authorities and removed from Hogwarts. It is an atrocity that Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of the school, still holds a protective hand over a known supporter of You-Know-Who._

With every line, he read faster and faster. His hands had started tingling again and his throat was tightening. He crumpled up the paper and threw it into a corner with a frustrated yell.

"It's obviously all nonsense!" Mette said soothingly. "We should not even pay attention to this idiocy!"

"Of course you would say that!" Claire interjected coolly. "Why are you so keen on letting those reporters carry on with this?"

Mette's eyebrows shot up her forehead; she let out a shrill, mirthless laugh, but seemed lost for words.

"Claire!" Minerva said sharply. Turning to Mette, she said, "I'm afraid it's not as simple as ignoring it. The Daily Prophet has a lot of influence with the wizarding community and other newspapers are echoing it. People are pulling their children from the school as we speak."

"Let me talk to those reporters," Claire demanded, "I know how to handle these people, trust me."

Minerva said, "It won't be enough for someone to speak in Severus' stead. We need to dispel the mystery surrounding him. The people from the press have taken up camp in Hogsmeade. I'm afraid they won't leave until they see and hear from him personally. Therefore, I suggest we invite them here and put an end to this straight away." She looked at him over the rim of her spectacles.

Severus wanted nothing more than to remain in the shadows. But if he did, Minerva would be in the cross fire.

"I suppose it's worth a try," he said. "And... I think it's a good idea if Claire is present for this as well."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mette's head snap around to him. He didn't look at her.

Minerva stood up, saying, "I will go down there myself and invite them to my office. Stay here."

Between the three of them that remained, an unpleasant silence settled. Severus looked neither left nor right. Mette gave up staring at him after a moment, but he could feel her agitation. Claire hummed a little tune to herself and studied her glittering fingernails.

About twenty minutes later, the door opened again, allowing a stream of people to flood in. Severus, Claire and Mette got up at a sign from Minerva and went around to join her behind her desk, where she conjured chairs for them. While the reporters arranged themselves, they chatted and laughed among each other, ignoring Severus – the alleged subject of their interest. It made him feel even more like a piece of news, something to be gutted and bled dry of all the drama and sensation it had to offer, and then left to rot.

Minerva cleared her throat. "You may indicate your wish to ask a question – one question – by a show of hand. I reserve the right to veto any questions I deem inappropriate," she said while letting her stern gaze travel across the assembled members of the press. "Begin."

All hands shot up. Minerva indicated one of them, who asked, "Why and by what means did you come back to life? What is your aim? Do you want to rise to power? Do you—"

"I thought" Minerva interjected sharply, "that I'd made myself clear. _One_ question at a time." Then, she looked at Severus expectantly. He took a deep breath and said,

"I did not plan to come back to life. It is something that happened to me, not something that I did purposefully. I have no intention to rise to power. I just want to live in peace."

All the reporters' hands were in the air again, some started asking questions without a prompt. Minerva called them to order, then allowed one to speak. This one asked,

"Is it true that you are brewing a potion that will make the drinker submit to your will? Did you use it on a teacher?"

"I am doing no such thing." Severus snarled, feeling the heat rise in his face.

"You," another reporter called to Mette, "aren't you that Muggle Studies teacher he was experimenting on? What did he do to you in his office?"

"That's none of your business!" Mette snapped. Severus noticed how some of the reporters smiled and started scribbling frantically.

Claire leaned forward, saying in a silky voice, "You are not seriously going to drag Severus' private life into this, are you? Surely, that would not be worthy of your esteemed publications, would it? You have your answer; he is not brewing any nasty potions. I can tell you" – she threw the crowd a coquettish look – "that these two have been dancing around each other for months. Our Mette here goes to his office because she enjoys his company. Don't you, honey?" This was directed at Mette, who briefly frowned at Claire, but then turned to the reporters and said "Yes." Some of them scratched out the last lines that they had written, looking crestfallen.

Satisfied, Claire continued, "See? There is nothing unsavoury about their relationship. Hence, it should be of no interest to you." She leaned back. Everyone behind the Headmistress' desk was staring at her.

Among the reporters, all hands were in the air yet again.

"It is true, though, isn't it, that you gave Harry Potter Occlumency lessons? Did you do this to give You-Know-Who access to Potter's mind?"

"I did try to teach him Occlumency but was unsuccessful. I had no intention to open his mind to the Dark Lord, on the contrary,"

Claire spoke again. "This is ancient history, You-Know-Who is long gone" she said, shaking her head, "I thought you were supposed to report, you know, _news_."

Murmuring broke out among the people of the press. A young man piped up, saying "Why should we believe you?" while he looked at Severus.

Claire tutted exasperatedly and said, "He helped us win the war! Isn't that enough evidence for you? Anyone else want to ask questions that have already been answered?"

Less hands rose this time. Minerva hesitated and threw a sideways glance at Claire before she prompted one of the reporters to speak.

"You killed Albus Dumbledore," an elderly woman said.

"What is your question?" Minerva asked.

"Why are you not being tried for his murder?"

"Seriously," Claire interjected, scoffing, "you should know this! It was all planned out beforehand by Dumbledore himself. You-Know-Who wanted a sixteen-year-old boy to kill Dumbledore. Dumbledore had been struck by a curse from a sinister artefact some months earlier and was already dying. Severus" – Claire gazed at him amiably – "at once ended a dying man's suffering and spared a young boy from becoming a murderer." She looked around at the reporters, turning her head from side to side. "Are you seriously telling us that none of you knew this?"

"Where would we have heard this? How do you know about it?"

"Harry Potter told everyone at the end of the Battle og Hogwarts!" Claire exclaimed, giving the impression that she couldn't believe how stupid they all were.

Minerva leaned across Severus to address Claire, murmuring, "All that were present that day were put under a magical oath not to make any of those things public. To protect the privacy of the involved parties."

The reporters' chairs creaked in unison as they leaned forward to eavesdrop.

"Oh, Minerva," Claire said, clearly audible and with a hint of condescension, "these people here are supposed to be journalists. They should have ways to get at protected information. They should know how to break magical oaths of silence." She turned to face the members of the press. "At least, if they held their profession to proper standards. Journalistic research is an art that these ladies and gentlemen apparently aren't familiar with." She sighed, "I don't know why I'm even surprised. If any of you were worth anything, you would have managed to dig up Harry Potter's whereabouts by now and scored an interview with him."

Parchments rustled and throats were cleared, but no one spoke.

"Anything else?" Claire asked offhandedly. No hands rose. "Good, you may go. And if I see any of you still hanging around Hogsmeade, I might just drop a line to your respective editors."

No one talked as they vanished their chairs, packed up their quills and cameras and filed out of the office. Minerva turned to Claire again, saying,

"I do not appreciate you taking over the chairing of this meeting in this manner. However... I have to admit your tactics were efficient. Next time, I would like to know beforehand if you have information that could help us."

"Next time?" Mette asked. At the same time, Severus said,

"How did you know about how Dumbledore died?"

Claire addressed herself at Severus, saying, "I am persuasive, as you probably just realized. I can get people to talk just as effectively as I can get them to shut their mouths." To Mette she said, "They will regroup and come back with something else. This is far from over. You better brace yourself, they'll be all up in your business."

"I will not do this again," Severus said, "they will have to stop making up stories!"

Claire sighed, saying, "They won't, darling. It's called freedom of speech. But hey – you have me, right? Do you finally believe that I can be useful here?"

* * *

Will Claire be able to drive Severus and Mette apart? Subscribe to never miss a new chapter! In the meantime, you'd do me huge favour if you gave the story a fave or wrote a review :)


	36. Chapter 36: Press Conference - part 2

Severus shot a quick glance at Mette, who creased her brow. At that point, Minerva ushered them out of her office. Claire hurried to walk alongside Severus, shouldering Mette out of the way and asking, "So? Do I have the job?"

"First, I need to know who told you about the things Harry Potter said."

"Ooooh, in this regard, I am a little like a journalist. A good one, that is," she said, and let out a tinkling laugh. "I will not expose my sources. But don't worry, I will treat everything they told me with complete confidentiality, unless it's useful for your protection. Trust me, I know what I'm doing! Anyway, I have to run off now. But I will keep my eye on the newspapers and talk strategies with you and Minerva as soon as they get cheeky again!" With this, she let herself be swept along by a flock of students who came pouring down the corridor. The lunch bell had just rung.

Mette was by his side again. When he saw her face, lined with a mixture of irritation and concern, he felt a pang of guilt for allowing Claire to speak for him. But it was his life, after all; he should get to make decisions about it. He tried to think of something to say to Mette when he heard a wolf-whistle not far from them. Both he and Mette looked up. A group of boys were sitting on a windowsill, one of them holding the Daily Prophet. They were whispering among each other and looking at the two of them, smirking. Severus clenched his jaw and made a determined step in their direction. "You!" He shouted at the boy with the newspaper, "Give me that!" He stretched out his hand, but found that he could not get closer to the group, as Mette had gotten hold of his other arm.

"Don't," she whispered. He tried to pull out of her grasp, but she held on, murmuring, "Please!" He wrenched his arm away and made another step towards the boys, but now Mette grabbed a fistful of his robes and pulled him away with surprising strength. The boys shouted gleefully and one uttered a sound like a whiplash, which was greeted by loud cackling from the others. Mette pulled him into a nearby empty classroom and quickly closed the door.

"What was that? You undermined my authority!" he snapped.

"That's not what's important right now! Didn't you see the two people at the end of the corridor?"

"I don't care who was there, these boys needed disciplining," he snarled.

"You should care, Severus, because the people in the corridor were two of the reporters! And even if they weren't, you are a person of interest now, anything anyone has to say about you might be in the paper the next day. You can't go around shouting at students."

"Do you expect me to just stand by while I'm being ridiculed by children?"

"No, Severus," Mette said, sounding defeated all of a sudden. She made a step towards him and said in a calmer voice, "I just want to protect you from making mistakes that could have bad consequences for you."

"Like you tried to protect me from Claire?" he scoffed

"I have to admit that she was helpful today... and I'm glad she could defuse the situation. I might have been wrong about her. I don't know."

"And you were wrong just now."

"No, I wasn't. I know it was unfortunate to pull you away like I did. But I couldn't think of anything else so quickly. I would do it again."

"Please don't. I'm tired of people telling me how to behave and how to react to the things that happen to me. I get that from Xanimus enough, I don't need it from you as well!"

"I know that it feels awful to be told when you did something wrong. It's humiliating. But that's really not what I want, I swear. I'm just trying to look out for you because I— I don't want bad things to happen to you. I still like and respect you just as much. It doesn't change how I see you at all." She touched the back of his hand with her fingertips. He caught his breath and some of his resistance crumbled.

He sank down onto a chair and put his face in his hands. "I hate this," he said. "Always being ordered around like a misbehaving child..."

Chair legs scraped on the floor and Severus felt a hand on his back. "Is there something that would make you feel better?"

"I just want to forget the world right now."

"I could ask Hagrid if he has any more of that wine, then we can get shitfaced tonight."

Severus looked up to see a mischievous smile on Mette's face. A laugh escaped him.

She sighed, "I need to go. I have lessons."

She was almost by the door when Severus said, "Do you still want to come by tonight? I have regular wine."

"That sounds great. I'll be there at seven."

Severus stayed in his office all day not wanting to run into any more students. Or Claire, or Minerva, for that matter.

When the evening approached, he showered and put on his best clothes – not that any of his clothes differed very much from one another. He lit a fire and some lamps. Unfortunately, his office had no free wall space, otherwise he would have conjured some windows. But he had a different idea.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A knock on his door made his heart skip a beat. Mette stood before it, smiling as she lifted up a bottle she held in her left hand. "I also brought some wine. Better safe than sorry," she said. As she stepped over the threshold, her gaze travelled upward.

"Every time you invite me here you have another crazy surprise," she laughed. "We're lucky to have a clear sky tonight. Is this the same spell they used in the Great Hall?"

"I don't think so, that one is much more complex than the one I used."

They both looked up into the starry night sky that hung above them, making the ceiling almost invisible.

"It's still really beautiful!"

When Severus had poured the wine, they clinked their glasses and drank. A comfortable silence settled between them. Mette was leaning back in her chair, her eyes travelling from the enchanted ceiling across the jars of creatures on Severus' shelves. The fireplace painted patches of soft yellow light on her profile. Severus studied her face; the shape of her nose, the pool of shadow on her cheek, the arch of her ear that was just visible between strands of hair.

She turned to look at him and he quickly shifted his gaze to his wine glass. Luckily, it was too dark in the office for her to see him blush.

"I'm sorry about today," Mette said. "I still think that it was good I pulled you away. I just wish I could have come up with a more subtle way."

"It's okay. You were right. Minerva is putting herself into the line of fire to keep me here. I should not waste her efforts."

Mette drew her eyebrows together as if something was just dawning on her. "Now that you put it like that… I hadn't quite realized how utterly dependent you are on other people's good will right now. And there I go, emaciating you even more. I'm sorry, really."

Severus smiled humourlessly. "It couldn't be avoided. Still, I'm sick of having to watch my every step."

"You don't need to watch yourself now, though," Mette said, smiling. "It's only me here. And I swear, I'll keep quiet about anything and everything you choose to say or do."

Severus laughed. "I believe you. Would you like some more wine?" he asked.

Mette gave him her glass, saying, "That's the spirit!"

After they had taken a few sips in silence, Mette nodded her head towards the shelves lining his wall and asked, "That one animal over there, what is it? I've seen this jar so often and have always wondered. It seems so... eerie." She got up and walked towards the shelf, scrutinizing the creature.

"That's a Limax," Severus said as he went to stand behind her. "It could be described as a mix between a slug and a Pixie. See the arms?" He stretched out his hand to indicate them. "They like to have a weapon in each of their four hands."

"Wow," Mette said quietly. She was so close, Severus could smell her shampoo. His arm was right beside her. He let it sink down again.

"How did you get it?" she asked.

"I think it was... in spring. I don't remember the year. They hatch in spring. Hagrid had told me of a part of the Forbidden Forest where he had seen some. So, I went there to catch a few hatchlings. I thought they wouldn't be as aggressive as the adults. That was a mistake." He chuckled quietly.

"What did they do?" Mette asked, turning to look at him.

So close.

"They went berserk as soon as they saw me. I think they might be born with weapons in hand. I still have a scar on my shin," he murmured as he looked into her eyes. "At least, I think I do. I never checked if it's still there after I woke up."

"Sounds dangerous," Mette said softly. "I can help you look for that scar sometime". Her face was only a couple inches from his, her hand on his shoulder. The heavy pounding of his heart was so strong, she had to feel him tremble. He put his hand on her waist, lightly. Mette smiled, then lifted herself towards him. As Severus inclined his head, his lips met hers. They were warm and soft and tasted like wine and blackberries. Mette sighed pleasurably and put her other hand on his back. Severus pulled her closer, one arm around her waist, one hand in her hair. She opened her mouth a little and teased him with the tip of her tongue. His entire being was concentrated in his mouth and nose, smelling and tasting Mette. Their bodies were pressed against each other, but it still was not close enough. Mette moaned softly, kissed him more urgently. Severus' head swam and he shakily exhaled. Mette gently broke away from him. They looked at each other and both chuckled.

"I've wanted to do that for ages," she said.

"Me too."

"Can you bring in that couch again? I don't feel like sitting across the table from you."

She had barely finished speaking when he waved his wand in a complex movement, warping the chairs and table, making them unite to form a soft, comfortable couch. Mette pulled him with her as she let herself fall onto it and started kissing him again. He was on top of her, wanting to melt into her. A deep longing took hold of him, so powerful it was almost painful. She kissed him deeply, one of her hands on his lower back, pulling him towards herself. His body reacted to her and she seemed to enjoy it.

"Wait..." he mumbled, propping his elbows up beside her head. "I haven't... I don't..." How could he finish this sentence?

Mette smiled, "It's all fine. There's no rush. Let's just enjoy each other's company. We have to cool it down a little though, otherwise I can't guarantee anything." She laughed softly, then sat up and fished for her wine glass, which had floated to a nearby shelf when the table had vanished. They sat together, Mette leaning up against Severus. It felt unreal. How had she suddenly ended up in his arms? How was it possible he was allowed to kiss her? But she was here, talking to him, laughing, pulling his arms around herself. He felt like he had at Christmas, multiplied by a thousand.

A while later, the fire had burned down and they had finished the wine. The darkness took away some of his anxiety. He bent down and started kissing Mette's neck. She sighed delightedly and turned around to face him. He slid down onto the couch; aroused by her warm weight on top of him.

"Can I take off your jacket?" she whispered.

"Yes."

She started opening the close-set row of buttons one by one. Severus reached for his wand and pointed it at his chest. The buttons extracted themselves from their buttonholes, causing Mette to chuckle.

Slowly, she undid his shirt and started kissing his chest, then the soft part of his stomach just underneath his sternum. Suddenly, the thought of having his pants taken off filled him with unease. The image of a gaggle of onlookers, upside down, pointing and laughing, shot like a bullet into his brain. He involuntarily caught his breath. Mette looked up.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked and came face to face with him again, her hair tickling his cheeks.

"No, you didn't, it's only..."

Mette smiled and kissed his face and then sat up on his lap. "It's not fair, is it, me still being dressed." She crossed her arms before her body and took off her shirt. Then she reached behind her back and her bra came loose. She wiped the straps off her shoulders and threw it aside. "Now we're even," she said as she bent down again. The feeling of her breasts on his chest, her soft skin against his, shifted his attention back to the urgent sensations of his present. He clasped Mette in his arms and turned, flipping her onto her back. No more getting caught up in memories; the Here and Now was too precious not to be fully experienced. He lay down beside her. She turned to him, her cheek resting on his palm. Smiling, he looked into her eyes and laid his other hand into in the little valley of her waist.

He immediately knew he had made a mistake.

* * *

Oops! There you have it, Sev, people do like to touch each other - now you're one of them.  
Thanks for reading again, I'd love to hear your thoughts :) Don't forget to subscribe!


	37. Chapter 37: Room to Breathe - part 1

**A/N:** I've gotten a few reviews of people who didn't like that Severus isn't snarky anymore. This story is about redemption and healing. Severus' snark was a defensive mechanism, born of bitterness and self-hate. He'll come into his own again by the end of the story but he won't be as snarky as before. I'm sorry if this is not what you wanted from a Severus Snape story.

* * *

Her face contorted into a grimace of pain. He jerked his hand away. She gasped.

"I'm sorry!" Severus blurted out.

Mette sat up, breathing deeply, holding her head.

"I'm so, so sorry," he repeated, cursing his lack off attention. Anger scratched at the surface of his mind from underneath.

"It's alright," Mette said, taking another calming breath and slowly shaking her head. "I'm okay. It wasn't as bad as last time. You pulled away real quick." She opened her eyes and smiled crookedly. "It's easy to forget, isn't it?"

"I understand now what you meant back then, after I found you in the corridor. About people touching each o—" His mouth fell open. "Wait!" he exclaimed and rushed into his bedroom. There, beside his bed, lay the satchel he had brought back from his second visit to Stolberg. He picked it up and brought it to Mette, who greeted him with a quizzical look.

"Open it," he said, holding the satchel out to her. She untied the cords and extracted two triangles made of thin black leather from the satchel. One was about as big as her palm, the other was slightly longer. A small loop was attached to the tip of the triangles and a bigger loop to a corner at the base. The base itself was connected to a short, intricately braided strap. Mette marvelled at the objects, running her fingers over the material. A sudden look of understanding appeared on her face. She gave Severus an excited glance, then slid the small loop over her ring finger and the larger one over her thumb. Severus sat down next to her and clasped the strap around her wrist. Mette smiled at the black triangle that now covered her palm.

"It's so soft, I can barely feel it," she said. She fastened the other glove to Severus' hand and interweaved her fingers with his. "You made them." It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yes."

She took his face in both her hands, intently looking at her gloved hand as she did so. Nothing happened. She let out a delighted laugh before she kissed him.

"Can you forgive my blunder?" Severus asked.

"Are you kidding? Let's try these out, shall we?" She wiggled the fingers of her gloved hand.

While Severus, to a certain extent, let himself be swept along, he was still nervous about having to take off his trousers. Mette, however, seemed to be perfectly happy with what he could give her tonight.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Spring came and Severus finally felt like he had room to breathe. There had been only minor articles about him in the _Daily Prophet_. Also, since the press conference, Claire had settled down and stopped pestering him. She even gave the two of them a friendly smile whenever she saw them.

While his guilt was still constantly gnawing on him, the sessions with Xanimus helped him to increasingly accept it as a part of his life. By acknowledging that it was there, he could give it space, stopping it from turning around and around in his head. "Practice kindness towards yourself," Xanimus kept saying. "Whenever you realize you are brooding on the past, pull yourself back and think about the present instead. Counter every negative thought with a positive one."

Severus heeded this advice as best he could. He had always assumed needing help was a sign of weakness. Now, he started to realize that being able to accept help was a strength.

The days got longer and warmer and Mette and Severus went for long hikes together. He also took her into the Forbidden Forest to show her the Thestrals. She couldn't see them, but she could hear and feel them. Their mere presence left a deep impression on her. Often, the two of them just sat by the lake together after dinner, talking, or simply keeping each other company.

"Did you know the Ministry introduced two new holidays after the war?" she asked him one evening.

"I did not. But I assume they are meant to celebrate our victory?"

"Yes." Mette looked at her hands. "The second of May is called Commemoration Day, in honour of those who died. It's a day of reflection and contemplation. There are no real lessons, The other teachers talk to the students about the war and politics all day. Last year, I just sat with the students and tried to learn a bit about British Wizarding History.

"And on the third of May, there's a feast... and a ball." She started absent-mindedly plucking out leaves of grass. "It happens here, at Hogwarts. This is where the battle was fought, after all, so I guess it makes sense. It's called the Feast of Life. There's a ball." She laughed nervously. "What do you think about dancing, do you like it? You don't seem the type, but one never knows, right? I don't want to assume anything." She was plucking at the grass more quickly now. "But I guess you won't want to be in a room full of people commemorating the battle, seeing as you played a role in the whole thing. And there will be other people coming to Hogwarts, maybe even Harry Potter. Although, he wasn't there last year, they say he's had enough publicity and lives quite a withdrawn life right now. I mean, I get it, he—"

"I'd like to go there with you," Severus cut short the torrent of words. "To the ball," he clarified with a small smile. She finally looked at him, a little red in the face, laughing. She wiped the leaves of grass from her hands, leaned against his shoulder and put her arm around his waist.

"That's wonderful. Thank you."

"And I do remember some basics of ballroom dancing."

"Really?" she looked at him in surprise. "I'm intrigued!"

Severus's heart made a little leap. He'd just had an idea.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

His claim to remember how to dance had been exaggerated. His wish to go to the ball with Mette hadn't. With Xanimus' help, he managed to find a Muggle VHS tape explaining the basic steps of the most important dances. He practised a little every day while Mette taught lessons. In spite of himself, he was excited at the prospect of dancing with her, even in front of people. It was time to brave the wizarding world at large.

For practice, he decided to go to Diagon Alley. None of the clothes in his wardrobe were smart enough for a ball – he needed proper dress robes.

As he stepped out of the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron, he was relieved to find the bar empty. The morning sun was reflected off the cobblestones of Diagon Alley, which was not busy, either. Nonetheless, he kept his head down, his face hidden between curtains of hair, while he walked towards Madam Malkin's. Every now and then, he looked up to see if people were staring at him. He thought he saw two witches whisper and look in his direction, but nothing else happened.

The bell above the door in the robes shop tingled. He stepped inside.

"Coming!" a female voice sang. Severus stood in the middle of the shop, looking around. The left side of the small room seemed to be entirely devoted to Hogwarts robes. He saw some Quidditch uniforms as well. He turned away. To his right, long racks held witches' dress robes, sorted by colour. The portion of the rack holding all shades of green was close to him. He thought he saw something very closely resembling the dress that Claire had worn on Valentine's Day. Severus took a step closer. The robes on the rack jerked into motion. The entire rainbow of garments slid past him, dresses briefly fluttering on their hangers and turning before him to advertise themselves before they flew up and retreated to the end of the ever-moving queue. Quickly, Severus took a step back. The parade of robes came to a halt. From behind a curtain at the back of the shop, a stout witch appeared, carrying a large, flat box containing lots of little cylindrical items in different colours

"Good morning, what can I do for—" the box fell and spilled spools of thread everywhere, which unravelled as they rolled away in all directions. Madam Malkin stared at him, her eyes wide. She turned the slightest bit, as if wanting to run away, but stayed rooted to the spot. Severus took out his wand. She threw up her hands and took a step back. As he waved it, the spools rolled themselves up and soared neatly back into the box, which came flying into his hands. He stowed his wand and held the box out to her.

"I'd like to buy some dress robes," he said.

Madam Malkin kept watching him through narrowed eyes as she stretched out her arms and snatched the box from his hands "You are Severus Snape," she said. "What do you want?"

"To buy dress robes."

She didn't move.

He took a breath. "The things the _Prophet_ wrote about me are exaggerated. I have no desire to rise to power. I don't know how I came back to life. I just need to buy some dress robes."

"So, you weren't a Death Eater?"

"That was a very long time ago."

"Oh, and that's supposed to make it better?"

"No, of course not. I have deeply regretted it ever since."

Madam Malkin threw up her arms in exasperation, upsetting the box of spools yet again. "Harry Potter grew up an orphan and had to spend his youth trying to escape the most dangerous wizard of all time, and you called that man your Master! You think that your _regret_ is enough to redeem you?" She was almost yelling.

The bell tinkled again. Madam Malkin looked past him towards the door and her face lit up for a split second, then she resumed glowering at him. Before she could break into another tirade, however, a dreamy voice behind him said, "Professor Snape?"

He turned and saw a young woman with waist-long hair so fair it was almost white.

"You came back," she said matter-of-factly. She stepped forward and took both his hands, scrutinizing his face for a moment. "How old are you?"

He was too stunned to answer. She let go of his hands, saying, "You were so brave. It must have been hard to look Voldemort in the eyes and not lose yourself for so many years." She looked past him and at the robes lining the walls. Her face assumed a quizzical expression. "Are you buying new clothes? I suppose you didn't have any when you woke up. Were you scared?"

Luna Lovegood was stripping away every pretence. "Yes," he heard himself say. She nodded, although he hadn't clarified which of her questions he had answered. "I want to buy dress robes," he added lamely.

"I'll help you." She drifted towards a rack with robes, ignorant of Madam Malkin's alarmed look. She quickly pulled out a few robes and said, "Come to the mirror." Not knowing what else to do, he obeyed. Luna held a set of pale green robes on a clothes hanger in front of his chest. He vigorously shook his head. Next were robes of a deep chocolate brown. They were more to his liking, but Luna cast them aside decidedly. Finally, she held a set of light-coloured robes before his chest. They were a dust grey with the merest hint of purple. "This works. I know you prefer black, but these would look really good on you. Put them on."

Hesitatingly, he took the robes and went into a changing cubicle. While he changed, he heard Luna chat to Madam Malkin. Apparently, Luna was also here to buy clothes for the ball. When he stepped back out, the girl smiled and nodded. Madam Malkin pressed her lips together, but then said, "I'll need to take them in for you. Step onto the pedestal."

Before he did so, Severus looked into the mirror. Luna was right, the colour of the robes did something to make his skin look less pale. It "worked", as she had put it. While Madam Malkin pinned the robes, every now and then sticking a pin into his skin without apologizing or even acknowledging it, Luna had waved her wand to arrest the rack's movement. Now, she wandered along the row of dresses, letting her hands glide over them. It reminded him of how he had picked his wand using the magic it sent out. He remembered Luna. She had been jarringly wacky as a student. But maybe she just saw the world differently from other people. His face grew hot when he remembered having witnessed others picking on her. He had never stopped them.

"I'm sorry," he said loudly enough for her to look up. "I'm sorry for looking away when you were teased. I should have done something."

She smiled vaguely. "That's okay. I figured you had bigger things to worry about. And you know, when you're different from everyone else, it's much easier to find out who really is your friend. Then, there's a good chance they like you because of who you are, not in spite of it."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Two days later, Minerva approached Severus and Mette at lunch and asked them to her office. After they had sat down in front of her desk, the Headmistress said, "I have analysed those patches you gave me. Or at least, I have tried. They disintegrated soon after I cast my first revealing spell. Their makers clearly wanted to make sure that their secret stays safe. Luckily I had a very good idea who those makers— who the maker is." The Headmistress pressed her lips together and the shadow of an emotion crossed her features.

"My guess was correct. Severus, you might remember the Weasley twins?"

Severus nodded, frowning slightly.

"Fred Weasley gave his life during the Battle of Hogwarts," Minerva continued.

_The battle_. Severus was suddenly painfully aware that many students probably died that night. A memory pushed itself into his mind. The night when he had overheard the prophecy and told the Dark Lord about it was vivid before his inner eye. Had the knowledge he had delivered to the Dark Lord made the second Wizarding War possible? Were his actions the pivoting point of the war? So many had died. And he had been instrumental to their deaths. The spiral of thoughts turned ever faster around him, squeezing the air out of his lungs. He had forgotten how to inhale. His arms and legs got stiff and tingled painfully. He tried to move, but his body wouldn't obey him.

Mette appeared before him, her mouth was moving but he could not hear her. He was slipping away.

Something warm touched his cheeks and pulled him out of the spiral. Still in shock, he heard rapid breathing and saw Mette's face contort. She started crying, sobbing quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Minerva jump up but managed to say "Don't!" warningly enough for her to not approach them. He had been pulled out of one agony just to be tossed into another. He wished there was something he could do to help Mette. He tried to calm his own breathing, feeling stupid and useless. Seeing her hurt was painful. He knew that she needed to go through all the emotions, but the wait was excruciating. _I'm doing this to her_, he thought as he watched her trembling body.

Finally, Mette started to calm down. Severus exhaled, only now realizing he had held his breath.

"Now," Mette whispered. Severus closed his eyes and laid his hands on hers. The world around them slowed and came to a halt. In the quiet centre of it were he and Mette.

Eventually, Mette took her hands away. Severus jumped when Minerva's voice asked, "What are you two doing?" Mette returned to her seat and quickly wiped her face on her sleeves. She proceeded to explain to Minerva about her gift.

"Well, I must say!" the Headmistress uttered after Mette had finished. "I assume this is the thing you mentioned you wanted to do 'research about' when you started here?" After a pause, she added, "Are there any Seers in your family?"

"No. At first, I also thought it must have something to do with Seeing. But Severus realized that it was actually a form of Legilimency." She smiled at him.

Minerva looked back and forth between the two young people, saying, "It seems you have... bonded over this." Although her tone was crisp, Severus thought he saw the merest hint of a smile. "Will you be alright?" she asked, addressing herself at both of them. When they nodded in unison, she cleared her throat and said, "I suppose in that case, we can continue with what we are here for.

"As I was saying, I assumed correctly that the patches were manufactured by _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_. The business started out as a joke shop, and is still primarily one. However, they also carry a line of more serious equipment that is currently being used by different departments of the Ministry, mostly the Auror Office. I have inquired with George Weasley and he confirmed that the patches are listening devices. He also assured me that their line of espionage instruments is not on display and only a number of registered Ministry officials are allowed to order them. Naturally, Claire Blanchard is not among them."

Mette groaned.

"Would you have liked her to be responsible?" Minerva asked pointedly.

"No, no. I would simply like to know who has been listening in on us!" She shuddered. "To think that someone put that thing on me..."

"I have already turned the matter over to the Auror Office. They will lead an investigation. However, with the patches gone, I cannot promise you anything."

* * *

Thanks for reading again! Leave a review if you liked it and don't forget to subscribe :)


	38. Chapter 38: Room To Breathe - part 2

Disgruntled, Mette and Severus descended the spiral staircase. When they were in the corridor, Mette said, "I guess that's that. They will never find out who put those patches on us, or why."

"It makes sense that it was someone from the Ministry," Severus said.

"Really? Why?"

"There was this man, Axton, who came here a few times to confirm my identity and see whether I could be allowed to carry a wand. He seemed rather suspicious of me. Seemed to think I came back on purpose, using dark magic."

"It can't be him, I never even met him. How would he have attached the patches?"

"There are ways. He could have used the Imperius Curse and gotten a House Elf to do it."

"Ugh." Mette shuddered. "I'm glad the patches are gone now! I hope they can trace them back to him!"

"It's just a theory. It might not have been him."

After a pause, Mette asked, "What were you thinking of that caused your fit?"

"I wondered whether I was responsible for all those people who died." Saying it out loud brought back the feeling of being suffocated. He swallowed.

"Hm," Mette said, "I get it. But I don't think you are. There was this prophecy, right? Dumbledore explained it to you, I saw it in the Pensieve. It said that there would be a boy with the power to kill You-Know-Who; but You-Know-Who would have to mark the boy as his equal. You only told You-Know-Who about the first part of the prophecy, about the existence of a boy. If you hadn't done this, he wouldn't have gone and actually marked Harry Potter as his equal. And then, no one would have had the power to stop him. Right?"

"You can't know what would have happened if I hadn't told him."

"That's true. But even without you, You-Know-Who would still have been there and still started a war and still killed a lot of people."

"Maybe..."

Mette stopped walking. "I understand that you are beating yourself up about what you did. But you cannot change the past." She said this softly, but firmly. She took his hand. "You can only learn to live with it. That's why you're seeing Xanimus every day."

There was an impenetrable barrier in his head that wouldn't let her words reach the right place. He thought that he had dealt with his guilt, but every time he made is peace with it, got to the bottom of it, it ripped wide open and revealed another layer. "I don't think I can ever really forgive what I did. And I wouldn't expect anyone else to, either. I understand what those reporters are getting at. How could people not hate me? How do you not hate me?" The spiral was tightening.

"I don't hate you because I see your remorse, and I see the person you could be. You can use your talents for Good as well. Just give yourself a little time and keep practicing to let go of the past. You'll get there."

He sighed and rubbed his face. "How did you know that you could stop my fit?"

Mette shook her head a little, slowly saying, "It was just an impulse."

"Thank you for acting on it."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Commemoration Day had arrived. Only thirty-six hours to go until the Feast of Life. Whenever he thought about dancing with Mette and the surprise he had prepared for her, he was filled with happy excitement. But when he thought about all the people that would be there, and how they might react to him, his happiness was replaced by crushing nervousness. But he would face them. He was ready.

He was about to enter the Great Hall for breakfast when a forbidding-looking Minerva hurried towards him and said. "My office, now."

"Again? But—" he gestured in the direction of the Great Hall.

"Mette can wait."

He jogged along after Minerva, through the castle and up the spiral staircase. Puzzled, he sat down at her desk. She handed him the Daily Prophet. His heart sank.

_CONFIRMED – SNAPE WANTED POTTER DEAD UNTIL HIS LAST MOMENT_

_Today, we commemorate the brave witches and wizards who have fallen in defence of peace and freedom; not only during the battle of Hogwarts, but during both wars._

_However, our grief and contemplation are disturbed by the presence of one in our midst who tried to turn the battle in the enemy's favour._

_The _Daily Prophet_ has it on good authority that Severus Snape, risen from the dead under most suspicious circumstances, begged his master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, to let him deliver Harry Potter for slaughter until mere moments before Snape himself died. This shows, more than anything else, how deeply invested Snape was in the cause of his Dark Master._

_Not enough that Snape returned - he currently lives at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, among our children, tainting the memories of those who have died there. He is even rumoured to be attending the Feast of Life held at Hogwarts tomorrow._

_We hereby call upon all our readers to boycott the Feast, should Snape indeed attend. We will no longer stand for a murderer and Death Eater to walk among us._

_For more information and background, see p.3_

When he looked up, Minerva asked, "Is this true? You asked You-Know-Who to allow you to bring him Harry Potter?"

"Yes." Why did she seem so angry? "You knew this, didn't you?"

"I most certainly did not! This changes everything! Why did you do that?"

"Because Potter was a Horcrux. He needed to die at the Dark Lord's hand. I was trying to make sure that everything would go as Dumbledore had planned."

"Potter was..."

"Did he not tell you?"

"No. He all but disappeared after the battle. Only his closest friends know everything that happened on that day."

"Should we call another press conference? I can ask Claire to attend," Severus offered.

"No, Severus. This situation is too grave to be fixed by someone bullying the reporters into silence. And I am sure that they are sending much more seasoned people this time; people too clever even for Claire. I'm afraid you need to leave the school. I will try to contact Potter to set the situation right, but it will take a while, if I can find him at all. It goes without saying that you must not attend the Feast."

At that moment, Mette burst through the office door.

"Severus!" she gasped, waving the newspaper. "We need to explain!"

Minerva did not look like she appreciated the intrusion. "It's not as simple as that, Mette! You cannot help right now, please leave my office. Severus, I will do what I can, but you need to get away from Hogwarts. I will set up my fireplace to let you travel to the Hog's Head. Lay low there until I have sorted this out. This really is the last thing I needed right before we are overrun with visitors tomorrow!"

"It's not his fault! They got it all wrong!" Mette said angrily.

"I am taking care of it." Minerva's tone made it clear that the conversation was over. She pointed Mette to the door.

"I'm going with him," she insisted.

"By all means!"

Minerva waved her wand at her fireplace, then thrust a jar of Floo powder at the two. They stepped into the flames.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Should we send Claire a note?" Mette asked after Ab had shown them to a room. The same room, in fact, that Severus had occupied on his first day back among the living.

"Minerva doesn't think Claire will be able to defuse this situation. We need a first-hand account from Harry Potter, and he is apparently all but impossible to track down."

Mette groaned and leaned against the desk. "Not that it matters now, but I bought a gown for the ball. I was really looking forward to it," she said tonelessly.

"Me too." He kissed her forehead and hugged her. "I have brushed up on my dancing skills."

She chuckled, still sounding a little sad, and murmured, "I knew you couldn't possibly remember much about dancing."

He gently pulled her away from the desk and started swaying her from side to side, then laid one hand on her waist and, with the other, took her hand. They waltzed a few steps around the tiny room.

"I was hoping to do this tomorrow, when the band plays the tune from that Cinderella film," Severus said quietly, his heart beating fast.

"Why would they play it? Although, if that would have happened, it would have been too romantic to be decent." Mette laughed quietly.

"I sent them the score. They said they'd play it."

Mette stopped moving and stared at him. "You didn't."

"I did."

"Sev— Severus!" She laughed and flung her arms around him.

"Do call me Sev."

It didn't matter anymore that they wouldn't be able to go to the ball. It didn't even matter that Britain's wizards were probably assembling a lynch mob to hunt him down right now.

He murmured into her hair, "Do you have the gloves with you?"

She made a frustrated little noise, then broke the hug to look at him. "I don't have them on me, I didn't think we'd have to leave so quickly. But I'll get them, they're in my office. I can sneak in." She took a step back and slightly held her arms out to her sides. "You know some camouflage spell, right? Cast it on me."

"Let's wait until dark. Remember, you'll just be like a human chameleon. People will still see you when you move."

"Right," she sighed. "Let's prepare by reading this then, shall we?" She reached over his shoulder towards the bookshelf. The book she had retrieved turned out to be the romance novel with the scantily-clad couple on the spine.

They spent the rest of their day talking, leafing through some of the other books and taking turns reciting the most raunchy and ridiculous passages from the romance novel.

Finally, dusk fell. Mette wanted to leave the moment the sun touched the horizon, but Severus held her back. Only when he felt it was dark enough did he cast the camouflage spell on her. She left the room, trying her best to remain inconspicuous, especially since she was buzzing with excitement.

To pass the time, he picked up the romance novel and reread one of the passages, feeling simultaneously curious and stupid. There were some helpful hints in there. He just hoped the author hadn't taken too much liberty with describing some of the things the characters did with each other. Before he knew it, he was searching for the next scene.

After a while, he looked at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Half an hour had passed. Mette should be back any minute. He replaced the book on the shelf and sat on the chair. He got up and leaned against the desk. Should he lie down on the bed? No, that was too much. Maybe he could sit on the bed. He took out his wand and considered casting _Muffliato_ on the walls and the door. He'd do that after Mette came back. Which should have happened by now. Maybe she had mislaid the gloves? No, she valued them too much. Or was she preparing in any way, like taking a shower? Should he take a bath? Surely, she would have told him if she had planned on doing that.

Where was she?

* * *

It's happening - we're headed towards the big showdown! Stay tuned, subscribe and fave or write a review if you like the story :)


	39. Chapter 39: The Feast of Life - part 1

After forty-five minutes, Severus started to worry. _She might have been cornered by reporters_. Thinking of which, how rigid were the protection spells around the school now? They would not be as thorough as they were during the war, would they? If they were, the camouflage spell would have been stripped away as soon as Mette entered the gate. How had he not thought of this? He needed to go look for her. To test its durability, he cast the camouflage spell on himself.

He sneaked out of the inn, through the back alleys of Hogsmeade and approached the gate to the school. When he entered, a sensation like warm water trickled down his skin. He looked at his arms and cursed. The charm was lifted.

A feeling of foreboding crept over him. He started jogging towards the castle, still hoping that he would meet Mette on his way there.

Slowly, he opened one of the heavy front doors and peered into the dimly lit entrance hall. No one seemed to be there. Faint music and the noise of many people talking reached him from somewhere inside the castle. Everyone was at the feast. After another moment of straining his eyes and ears, he slipped through the gap in the entrance and tip-toed up the stairs to the corridor where Mette's office was.

A weight dropped off his heart when he saw Mette lock her office door. He broke into a trot to get to her. When he was only a few paces away, he called her name. As she turned to him, she pulled something off from around her head and moved her right hand. Severus felt his wand slipping from its place at his hip. Claire caught it. Her strawberry blond hair now cascaded down her shoulders once more.

"Hello," she said cheerily. "What brings you here, I thought you were banned from the grounds?"

"Wait, no... what are you doing here? Where is Mette?"

"Oh, right," She said, her voice dripping with mock empathy, "poor Miss Squibby! Where could she have gone?"

"What did you do to her?" His heart had started pounding.

Claire laughed. "I didn't do anything to her, darling." There was something threatening underneath the sweetness in Claire's voice.

"Where is she?" Severus snarled.

"Safe. For now," Claire said lightly. He strode towards her, ready to grab her by the throat. She arrested him with her wand. "Now, now, calm down. We can talk about this." A pair of shackles appeared out of thin air and bound his wrists together with a small gold chain. He strained to break the chain but Claire said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. You see, if the chain breaks, your girlfriend will meet a fate worse than death – instantly."

Severus balled his fists and barked, "It_ was_ you! You put those patches on us, you fed my stories to the press!"

"Tut tut tut, better not raise our voices. Remember, you're not supposed to be here. But yes, of course it was me. I'm so glad we can finally drop this charade!"

"But... the patches are gone, how did you know where I was tonight, where Mette was?"

"Oh, honey! You don't think you had only one patch on you, do you? I have had... access to places that Squib has never even seen."

Severus started sweating. Why had he not checked his entire body?

"Also," Claire said off-handedly, "There are some in your office."

"How did you even get those things? Only people high up in the Ministry can buy them."

"Please! Look at me! I'm a beautiful, rich Pureblood. I have friends everywhere. And I have a way of making influential old men wax under my hands."

He had no trouble believing this. "Then what do you want with me? You could have anything you want without my help."

"Not anything. Not the things that really matter. You see, anyone can marry within their own circles. All my friends do it. But I cannot— must not be like everyone else. If I married, say, Kenneth, I'd disappear among my peers. And that's just something I can't let happen. I need to be more. I need to be everything. And You. Are. My. Ticket." With every word, she had taken one step towards him. "And I am yours."

"What do you mean?"

"You want to save your little girlfriend, don't you? And you also want to be left alone by the press. I will make all of that happen."

"I will not be blackmailed by you. Tell me where Mette is."

Claire laughed heartily, it sounded very different from her usual cute tinkling laugh. "Here's the deal. You do as I say and she will go unharmed. Otherwise, she'll get shipped to one of my elderly friends who has a taste for Muggle women and is skilled in casting submission charms."

Severus asked through clenched teeth, "What do I need to do?"

"Wonderful, now we're understanding each other. Tonight, we will go meet someone I know well, a reporter of the_ Daily Prophet_. To her, we will tell your story. The whole story. About your tragic childhood. About your desperate, unrequited love for Lily Potter. About your breakdown after you betrayed Lily. The works. And my friend, skilled writer that she is, will spin a tale so profound and beautiful that all of Britain will weep for you and instantly forgive you."

_She said Lily's name_. All hope that Claire was bluffing evaporated. Severus' hands got numb and his throat closed. _Not now_. He forced himself to stay in control over his body. "What's in it for you?" he hissed.

"I will be by your side through your miraculous healing process. I will be the one who helped you get through your trauma, who helped you find the courage to finally address your issues and answer the wizarding world's burning questions about you.

"At first, I will act as your publicist. But the wizards of Britain will wonder about us, and _Witch Weekly_ will print photographs of us, rumouring that there might be more than just a professional relationship. And then, how wonderful, a photographer spots us kissing! And soon, we will reveal that yes, we are in love. We will be Britain's power couple. Everyone will love us. They will marvel at your stoic bravery and my unparalleled style and beauty. Imagine our children! Red-golden hair and deep, black eyes... We'll have to do something if they get your nose, of course."

"You are mad."

"About you, darling! Which is more than what I can say of our dear Mette..." Claire shot him a sideways glance, waiting for her words to take effect.

"What is this?"

Claire laughed. "You don't know? That's hilarious!"

"_What_ are you talking about?" he spat.

"Oh, my poor dear! Mette is leaving England at the end of the school year. She already talked to Minerva about it."

"You're lying."

"I'm really not. Listen." She tapped the side of her neck with her wand. Mette's voice emanated from the spot, quietly, but clearly audible.

"I accomplished what I came here to do," Mette's voice said, "There's no reason for me to stay in England any longer. I will leave after the exams." There was the sound of someone else talking, more quietly, but Severus could not discern the words. Mette said, "I know, and I'm really sorry. I wish I could have told you earlier, but I found the information I was looking for only a few days ago. Now, I really want to leave as soon as possible, to get back to my life at home."

Claire tapped the spot again with her wand. She pouted and took Severus' hand to pat it. "Truth hurts, doesn't it," she said gently. "Stop running after someone who only wants to use you for her own gain. You'll get nothing out of that. I can offer you so much!"

Had Mette been using him? It couldn't be, they had gotten so close. And yet... Something Mette had said when he had told her about Legilimency popped up in his mind: _You were the solution all along, I just looked at you from the wrong angle_.

Claire looked at him earnestly. "If we stick to my plan, you'll be beloved and famous. A true prince among wizards."

That word made Severus look at Claire. Prince. He frowned. "You've promised this before, when you strung me along to that party. Yet, none of your friends seemed to care about me at all."

"Oh, that! I'm so sorry, that was my fault! You see, I hadn't _really_ told them who you are. Just in case you'd say no to the date, I couldn't embarrass myself like that, could I. I'd just dropped a few hints. So, they suspected it might be you, but were unsure. And they didn't want to make a big fuss just to find out afterwards that you weren't who they thought you were! It was totally my fault. Tomorrow, though, everyone will know what you look like. Your picture will be in the newspaper along with the article."

"My picture? One of those photos they took when I ran through Hogsmeade?"

"No, silly! There will be a photo shoot tonight as well. We'll be sure to catch your essence – deep and thoughtful, tormented by your past, but on your way to turn a new leaf. I know the photographer too, of course."

"What about Mette?"

"I promise we'll get her back to Sweden safely. Tonight, as soon as the interview is over." She shook his hand back and forth as if to shake him awake. "Come on, you don't want to disappear into obscurity, do you? You wouldn't let everyone think you're some cowardly Death Eater who has to hide from the world? Don't you want every wizard out there to know how brave you are?"

He did want people to know that. Right now, everyone around him only focused on the bad things he had done. Madam Malkin had shown him very clearly what the broad public thought of him.

"If I were to go with you," he said, "how am I supposed to ever trust you? You spied on me for months!"

Claire looked at him with a mixture of pain and pity on her face. "Darling, I protected you! I understand that you are wary of me right now, but you must believe that I only ever wanted the best for you! When you first arrived here, you were so... _lost_. But I saw your potential. You can be the most beloved wizard in Britain. In the world, even!

"Right now, you are going in the exact opposite direction. Fraternizing with a Squib!" Claire shook her head and creased her brow. "I know that what I did was not great, but I had to keep my eyes – well, ears – on you somehow." She giggled, then got serious again. "It was all just to make sure that you didn't get lost and damaged your chances of being recognized for who you really are! And Mette... you heard her. She was using your knowledge and power for her own gains. She was going to abandon you either way!"

"Why didn't you just _tell_ me this? Why did you have to kidnap her?"

Claire threw him a pitying look. "Darling, I tried to talk to you so many times! But she was always there, making sure I couldn't catch you alone. I had to take her out of the equation – if only to finally get your full attention. Don't you understand I just want the world to see you for the wonderful man you are?" She looked at him pleadingly. "Don't squander this precious chance."

Severus searched her expression. She looked unusually earnest.

Could this work? Could Claire really give him an easy way out? The sessions with Xanimus were hard work, and what had Severus really gained? The one friend he'd thought he had had used him. And everyone else hated him. Which was crazy, considering what he'd done during the war. They should be thanking him. But he was just not good enough at telling his story. He would only ever end up having to justify himself, but coming woefully short.

With Claire, a world of people – important, influential people – would be at his fingertips. What if everything bad he had done became perfectly understandable once someone put it into the proper perspective, someone who knew how to convince people? He could stop hiding, stop struggling, stop being ashamed.

He had experienced first-hand how powerful the press was, how easily they could sway public opinion. If the right story was told, fame and glory were within his reach. And Claire had no troubles wrapping people around her finger. At that party, she had been dancing on air, fluttering between groups and becoming the centre of each of them as soon as she appeared. Everyone had been interested in her life. They had not been interested in him, Severus, as a person, but as Claire's partner. She did seem to be the key ingredient to being accepted.

"Don't think about it for too long, someone might catch you here any minute now," Claire coerced him.

He examined his feelings for Mette. He had trusted her, so much. He had opened up to her completely. But she was just going to leave him. There was no reason for her to stay, she had said so herself. No reason. In fact, she couldn't wait to get away. _There is no_ love _for you! You knew that, didn't you?_ a voice cackled in his head. Still, he needed to make sure that nothing would happen to Mette. It was the right thing. If he was going to start a new life, he needed to do so with a clear conscience. He shoved away the feeling of desperation that was trying to grab hold of him. He swallowed the sadness that was threatening to overwhelm him. Mette had made him weak. He would have no more of that.

"Where's the interview?" he finally asked.

"In Hogsmeade. My friend is already waiting for us."

"I'll come with you."

* * *

Is Severus going to give in to the easy way out? Subscribe not to miss the grand finale! Only two more chapters to go!  
I'm happy and sad at the same time, because I really, really wanted you guys to know the entire story, but it also means that the story is finished soon T_T Although there might be some one-shots in the future, yay! A a few scenes that lots of people asked for. Follow me to get a notification when they're up!  
Don't hesitate to write a review if you liked it, and give me a fave :)


	40. Chapter 40: The Feast of Life - part 2

Claire breathed a relieved sigh. "You won't regret this, I promise!" She threw a look at the shackles around Severus' wrists, twirling her wand. After a short hesitation, she turned away and said, "Come along."

She started walking, her long robes and elegant gait making it seem almost like she floated. Severus, on the other hand, waddled after her, his walk impeded by his shackled hands.

"Oh, by the way," she said, "You haven't bought your dress robes in vain. I can dance. Tomorrow night, everyone at the ball will stand in awe before you. Before us."

After they had crossed the school grounds and entered Hogsmeade, Claire led him to the Three Broomsticks – the more respectable of the two inns in Hogsmeade village. Tonight, however, its windows were dark. Claire walked around the building and opened a side door, which swung open soundlessly. Severus had to duck his head to avoid hitting it on the low door frame. Claire led him up a narrow set of wooden stairs that ended in a long corridor.

Claire did not walk down the corridor, but wrenched open a tattered door to their left. A small room with simple wooden furniture came into view. In fact, it looked not unlike Severus' room at the Hog's Head. A lady with large blond curls and bejewelled spectacles sat at a round table that stood in the middle of the room, dictating quietly to a quill that raced back and forth on a piece of parchment. When Claire and Severus entered, the lady jumped up and extended both her arms towards Claire. "Darling!" she exclaimed. "How— lovely— to see you!" she said in between kissing Claire on both cheeks. She looked past Claire and examined Severus with pursed lips. "Well, well, well. If it isn't our man of the hour! We will make you the man of the year. Oh, what am I saying – of the century! Sit."

Severus remained standing. Had he known it was Rita Skeeter who waited for him, he would not have come. Or, at least, he would have needed more persuasion. Every other word that woman put to paper was a lie.

Claire saw his hesitation. "Don't worry, honey," she said, "Your story is in the best hands. No one knows how to compel the masses like Rita." The two women exchanged a look and smiled at each other meaningfully.

"Sit," Rita repeated. He obeyed this time, putting his shackled hands into his lap. Rita smiled sweetly and set her acid-green quill onto a fresh piece of parchment. "Let's not waste any more time, I need this to go into print tomorrow morning. Tell me about your childhood. And don't spare any details, my quill can keep up with you. How was your relationship with your father?" The quill immediately started scribbling,

_'Unconventionally handsome' - not the first words you would think when hearing the name Severus Snape, but surprisingly, they are true. The man formerly known as greasy-haired and sour-looking has transformed himself._

Severus tore his gaze away from the parchment, upon which the quill was racing back and forth. "My father," he began, "despised me."

Rita perked up, her eyes glinting. "Go on!"

It turned out to be much easier than he had thought. He was used to talking about his past so much by now that the answers came automatically. And the quill, he noticed, gave his story exactly the tragic undertone that Claire had promised. If this was all it took to redeem himself before the wizarding world, his anxiety of the past months had been unnecessary.

Halfway during the interview, the photographer arrived. He greeted the women by kissing them on the cheek and awkwardly shook Severus' hand, giving the shackles a brief, curious glance. The photographer was a small, wiry man with a tiny patch of beard underneath his lower lip. Several leather bags hung over his shoulders. As he started unpacking noisily, he said, "Don't mind me, I'm just setting up. I'll get to you in a minute. And those will have to go." He gestured at the shackles.

While Severus talked to Rita, the photographer waved his wand, directing large lamps filled with floating luminous balls into different corners of the room, sorted through books on the shelf behind Severus and rearranged some of the furniture.

"Right!" The photographer clapped his hands, interrupting Severus mid-sentence. "What I want you to do is, I want you to listen to Rita's questions and then, instead of answering straight away, I want you to look into the camera, okay, while you hold the answer in your head, and really think about what you will say for a moment before you speak, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"I suppose," Severus said. He lifted his shackled hands and gave Claire a questioning look. Claire gazed at him shrewdly. For a moment, the room was silent. Eventually, Claire made the shackles disappear with a wave of her wand. Severus gave her a small smile.

Rita said, "Lovely, I'll just go on then. Your Dark Mark – how did you feel about it after you decided to become a double agent?"

Severus tried to formulate the answer in his head before he spoke. It was hard to focus with the camera clicking rapidly and the photographer dancing from one side to the other, then closer, then further away, all while muttering "That's it", "Right there", and "Good, good!" under his breath. Under normal circumstances, Severus would have shut that fool up with a few well-chosen words and an icy stare. But today, he swallowed his irritation.

"Now," the photographer said after a while, "Forget everything I just told you and just act natural. Act natural. As if I'm not here, okay? Can you do that?" He proceeded to assume the most impossible positions. He stood on the table, draped himself over the backrest of Rita Skeeter's chair, and lay down on the floor between Severus and her, all while making his camera click maniacally.

It went on like this for about fifteen minutes before he interrupted the interview yet again, saying, "I think I got what I need." With a wave of his wand, his equipment soared back into the leather bags. Thankfully, he left the furniture where it was.

About an hour after the photographer had gone, the interview was finally over. Severus was utterly exhausted, but he felt light, relieved. He had done it, told it all. With every new question from Rita he had felt more like an interesting person who had something exciting to say. Someone worth listening to. The reporter had left with a fat wad of parchments filled with the scribbles of her Quick-Quotes Quill and the gleeful promise to write the best piece of her career so far.

Now, he and Claire were finally alone.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Claire said as she leaned her chin on her interwoven fingers.

"Surprisingly, it wasn't." Severus looked at her thoughtfully.

"Life is so easy when you know the right people. And I am 'the right people'." She gazed at him. "'Unconventionally handsome', huh?" she quoted.

"You saw that." A tiny smile appeared on Severus' face.

"Yes. And I agree with it."

"Thank you for trusting me and removing those shackles."

"There is something in your eyes... I'm good at reading people, you know. I can see that you won't resist. I can see that you have chosen to stay with me."

"You were right, about all of it. This is so much easier than working with the Healer. I feel liberated. I should have gone with you before. I'm sorry it took me so long."

"Awww," made Claire, "Better late than never, right?"

Severus smiled and nodded.

Claire got up and walked to where he sat. She traced her finger across his cheek, then stretched out her hand for him to take. "From now on, life will be sweet. You never need to worry about anything ever again. You made the right choice."

He took her hand and stood up. "I think so too." He pulled her into his arms. She let out a delighted little gasp and wrapped her arms around him. "Can we go somewhere else?" he whispered into her hair, "Your place?"

Claire looked up at him, beaming. "I knew you'd come around! It's time to burst through that chastity belt." She gave him a longing look, then took his hand and pulled him from the room, down the stairs and into the night. She strode back towards the school gates, Severus in her wake.

"Do you need to message someone to release Mette?" he asked.

Claire stopped, turned, and eyed him suspiciously. "I'll do that when we're at my quarters. Why do you still care about that?"

Severus gave her arm a little pull so she had to take a stumbling step towards him. He caught her in his arms. She smiled triumphantly as he pushed a strand of hair out of her face. "No reason," he said softly. "I was just curious how you managed to get her away so quickly and efficiently" He inclined his head. Their lips were all but touching. Claire gazed deep into his eyes.

His wand was close to him now, close enough to feel its magic connect to him. If there ever was a time to do Legilimency without holding his wand in his hand, it was now.

Her thoughts were swirling rapidly. With painstaking effort, he managed to extract an image. A huddled, unmoving figure lay on the ground by a wall. Before he could see anything else, the image flickered and was washed away by others. _Half dead by now_, a voice whispered. It was quickly drowned out by loudly echoing giggles.

"Do you want to stop staring at me and kiss me already?" Claire said, half irritated, half teasing, pushing Severus out of her mind before he could find out anything else.

In an angry flash, he ripped both their wands from underneath Claire's belt and shoved her bodily away before letting thin ropes wrap themselves around her, forcing her to kneel down. He strode to her and jabbed his wand at her throat.

"Where is Mette?" he snarled

Claire's mouth stood open. She looked up at him with utmost bewilderment. Giggling nervously, she asked, "What kind of game is this? Is this some roleplaying thing you're into?"

Severus clenched his teeth "Tell me were Mette is, _now_!"

"Is this real? Are you serious right now?" The smile disappeared, her voice rose. "You bastard! How dare you, after all I've done for you! And what do you think will happen now, huh? That Squib is practically already dead now you've done this!"

Severus tried to penetrate her mind again, but something flickered up in Claire's eyes, a sudden understanding. Before he could get far enough, Claire averted her gaze.

Looking at the ground in front of her, she chuckled and said "You'll never find her on your own, you idiot."

Severus breathed heavily, pondering his options. He had an idea that whoever Claire was working with could hear exactly what was going on through the eavesdropping patches. He let his wand sink. He could not let his anger and zeal run away with him, not this time. He'd do everything in his power to save the life that was at stake. Quietly, he said, "I'll stay with you afterwards. I just need to know that she's safe."

Claire scoffed, her head still bowed. "It's all about her, then?"

"If this is what it takes."

Claire looked up at him for a split second, grinning darkly. He had his wand ready, the spell foremost in his mind. But she was too quick. Before he'd even thought the word _Legilimens_, she looked down again. "Alright then, I'll take you to her. But there's a catch. I need to make sure that you'll really stay with me afterwards, even if she is free again."

"What's the catch?"

"We will modify her memory so she will be convinced that you're an awful, terrible person. She will want nothing to do with you anymore. That's the price for her freedom."

"Will she be healthy?"

Claire sighed. In a bored voice, she said, "Yes, nothing else will change. She'll be alive, healthy and happy – with someone else. This is my little reminder to you what happens when you refuse me."

"Fine. Let's go."

"Unbind me and give me the wands."

Severus hesitated. But as long as he didn't know where Mette was, he would have to play along. He waved his wand to release Claire, who snatched the two wands out of his hand.

"That's better, honey." Claire straightened her robes and fluffed up her hair. She made the cuffs reappear around Severus' wrists. This time, they forced his hands onto his back before they connected to each other.

Claire marched him through the dark back alleys of Hogsmeade. When they had reached the edge of the village, she commanded him to stop and said, "Try to Apparate along with a little more dignity this time, will you. If anyone sees us and you're puking or something, our perfect romance will be off to a bad start." She gave him a disapproving look while she took a step towards him, her hand reaching for his arm.

This was it. He'd used all his skill to hold on to his connection with his wand. The spell violently burst through him and into Claire's mind. She gasped.

Light from the stained-glass window of a pub was reflected on the cars parked along a street. It was the place he and Mette had gone to on New Year's Eve. The entrance to a narrow alley beside the pub came into focus.

Severus spun around on the spot. Two cracks echoed around the dark countryside in quick succession. Claire, released from his spell, shrieked and turned her head quickly from side to side. Severus was behind her, the shackles lay abandoned before her feet. He ripped the two wands from her belt and stunned her, then turned on the spot again.

He arrived on a sidewalk in a Muggle village. Looking around wildly, he discovered the pub and the entrance to the alley on the other side of the road. He took off across the street, but was arrested by a sharp pain in his calf. Something warm and sticky quickly drenched his trouser leg. He had no time to worry about that now. He crossed the street at a run, darting into the alley. Just as he had seen in Claire's mind, there was the huddled figure. He ran to it and kneeled down, gently turning it over.

"Surprise," the figure said in a glib voice.

"Kenneth?"

"I take it you were hoping to find someone else."

"Where is she?" The pain in his calf was draining his energy by the second.

"Oh, she's around. But she won't be for long, at least not in spirit."

"What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do anything. Unfortunately, she took a leaf out of Claire's book and made sure she always knew what you were up to." Kenneth indicated the side of his neck, the same spot Claire had tapped with her wand to play the recording of Mette. "She witnessed your interchange with our dear Claire and realized you would trade being exiled with a Squib for being famous with a Pureblood in a heartbeat. Poor Mette was so devastated that she came to the place where you had your first date and took a bunch of sleeping pills. She's peacefully departing as we speak."

Severus roared and grabbed Kenneth by the collar, pushing him against the wall. Adrenaline pulsed through Severus and momentarily blocked out the pain in his leg. It took no effort at all to penetrate Kenneth's mind. To Severus' surprise, the image that greeted him was crisp and clear, like a photograph. There were no words, no sounds, no other images in Kenneth's head. Just a still picture of Mette, lying on a stone floor, her eyes closed, her lips blue.

"WHERE IS SHE?" Severus yelled.

Kenneth chuckled quietly. "Wouldn't you like to know. Thanks for that Occlumency potion recipe, it was really easy to make. And it works so well, too! Good job, Mr. Potions Master! Although you might want to work on the effect duration. I take it that it stopped working for poor Claire?"

With a slash of his wand, Severus stunned Kenneth, whose head snapped backwards and crashed into the wall with a sickening crunch.

Severus paced up and down the alley. His head was swimming. The pain in his calf came back, pulsating and worse than before. He had to focus. He needed to find Mette. What had he seen? Just a grey wall, made out of large, roughly hewn and unevenly sized stones not unlike the ones the houses in this street were built out of.

_She's here!_

He cast _Homenum Revelio_ into every direction, looking at every shape that revealed itself, trying to judge whether it could be Mette. _Lying down, alone... Nothing here._ He ran a few steps, which made his heart beat impossibly fast to pump what blood he had left through his body. He couldn't seem to get enough air into his lungs, but he didn't stop to catch his breath. Instead, he cast the spell again. _Nothing._ There was a larger building on the other side of the road, also built from the uneven stones. He quickly crossed over and cast the spell again. This time, there was something there. Underground, only a few paces from where he stood, the spell had outlined a small heap of human.

He disintegrated the front door and ran down a staircase of hollowed-out stone steps. A few steps down, he slipped and landed painfully on his back. Cursing, he pulled himself up and cast the spell again. The shining outline of Mette blurred before his eyes. He pushed on, forcing open another door, rounding a corner and entering a cavernous cellar. He produced a few light balls that floated to the ceiling. There, at the far end, lay a dark shape.

He flew to her, trying to ignore the piercing pain in every step. He fell to his knees at her side. From the satchel on his belt, he fumbled a bezoar and forced it into her mouth, pushing it back into her throat as far as he could. Her skin felt cold. "Come on," he groaned, massaging her throat to try and force the bezoar deeper. Her head lolled back. The arteries beside her throat were still. No pulse.

"No, no, no," he whispered. He cast every healing spell that he could think of, but to no avail. He took her face into both his hands, pressing his palms to her cheeks. No reaction.

"Come ON!" In his frenzy, he laid her down and started pushing her chest and breathing into her mouth as he had seen on the poster in Xanimus' office. But if magic could not help her, nothing could.

"No!" he screamed. He carefully scooped up Mette's head and put it on his lap. He had wasted all his time with Claire. All Mette's time. He stroked her hair, sobbing, and willed her to come back. He knew that it was pointless.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading again! Subscribe so you won't miss the final chapter :) In the meantime, feel free to write a review if you like the story or give me a fave


	41. Chapter 41: The Heron

He had been an imbecile, trying to convince himself he could start life over. What a pathetic, ridiculous idea. Where he went, death soon followed. He should have known. Mette's limp body slid onto the ground. He sat back against the wall, the blood seeping from his leg and forming a puddle underneath him. With his hands before his face, he rocked forward and backward, trying to stifle the sobs.

The sound of coughing and retching pulled him back. On all fours, her back hunched, Mette vomited onto the floor with a splattering noise. Severus jumped up and the image of Mette swam before his eyes and disintegrated, then came floating back. He steadied himself on the wall. Was he going insane? Maybe he was dying. The wall that he was leaning on was tottering. He watched as the wavering apparition of Mette wiped her mouth, slowly got to her feet and turned around.

Her eyes widened. "Thank God," she whispered as she threw herself into his arms. He staggered against the wall.

"M— Mette?" he said hoarsely, then pushed himself off the wall and wrapped his arms around her. He could feel her, smell her, hear her breathe. It was real. She was alive. He held her tight, shaking with senseless, relieved laughter. When they broke apart, Mette looked down and lifted her foot.

"What... Severus! Is that yours?"

"Yes. I should do something," he said vaguely before his legs finally gave way.

Mette was at his hip, pushing away the folds of his cloak and browsing through the satchel.

"Knife," Severus said weakly.

His trousers were slit open. Mette sharply took in her breath. "It's like someone cut a slice off of you!"

The first drips of Dittany burned on his exposed flesh, but then the pain ebbed away. He rolled onto his side and tried to push himself up but the world was spinning out of control.

"You've lost too much blood. I'll call an ambulance."

"No... Replenishing... potion."

Again, Mette rummaged through the satchel. "I'm so glad you always label everything!" She carefully lifted up his head and put the vial to his lips. He swallowed the potion; the world slowed down and eventually came to a halt. He looked up at Mette. A sound between a laugh and a sob escaped his throat.

"I thought I was too late," he said. "How can this be? You were dead."

"Not dead enough, apparently." She chuckled shakily and wiped her face with her sleeves.

They looked at each other and laughed, giddy with the joy of being alive and reunited. Mette put her hand onto Severus' cheek. "I love you."

His insides melted into something warm and wonderful. "I love you too."

After Severus had stood up and mended his trousers, Mette asked, "How do we get back?"

"I'll try if I can conjure a Patronus to alert Minerva."

Mette, standing to his left, intertwined her fingers with his. The happy memory he needed was being made right this moment. He raised his wand and said, "_Expecto Patronum_." The shape that blossomed at its tip was smaller than he had expected. "It changed!"

"A heron," Mette said. "It's beautiful. Suits you."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Severus sat in their room at the Hog's Head, which was lit only by one single candle. Mette had stopped by her office and her house to retrieve some necessities, including the gloves. It had been a long day, but neither of them had wanted to go to bed just yet. Severus sat on the chair by the bed, wearing pyjamas and a bath robe. Mette just came out of the bathroom, her hair still wet, when an owl pecked against the windowpane. Severus opened the window and took a small roll of parchment from the bird. He told Mette what the letter said while he was reading.

"Kenneth had a skull fracture but is alright now... Claire might need more thorough treatment."

"What did you do to her?"

"I just bound her. And I also stunned her. But I don't think it's that. I suppose she has some psychological issues."

"Sounds about right... the stuff she said to you, about making old guys wax under her hands and you two becoming Britain's power couple... It sounded pretty disturbed."

"How do you know about that?"

"Kenneth put the other end of the listening device on me."

So that part of Kenneth's tale had been true.

"Claire showed me something..." Severus said. "She had some kind of recording of you saying you were leaving England..."

"Oh!" Mette exclaimed, "I had almost forgotten about that! I was asking Minerva whether she could, hypothetically, do without you as a teacher, so you could come with me, if you wanted... Now that I'm saying it, I'm realizing I should have asked you first. But yes, it's true, I want to leave to be a scientist again. And tonight, I was going to ask you to come with me."

"What did Minerva say?"

Mette sat down on the bed and said, "She wasn't thrilled but she said it would be your decision."

"Well, now that I have wasted my shot at being one half of Britain's power couple, I might just as well move to Norway."

Mette laughed out loud. Severus leaned forward and kissed her.

He said, "Kenneth told me you had taken sleeping pills..."

"Taken!" Mette snorted. "That sick bastard put them right into my stomach by magic. Just like the nurses at St. Mungo's used to put food in you when you were in that stupor. He did it immediately after Claire said that you weren't allowed to puke and then there was a lot of noise and she screamed. Kenneth said that something had gone wrong with the plan and this was their failsafe. They couldn't leave any witnesses."

Severus slowly shook his head. "Remind me to slaughter a few goats as soon as we get the chance."

Mette stared at him blankly, her eyes wide open. "Um... is this some pagan wizard ritual to thank the gods for not letting me die? Do they need to be appeased for not getting a human soul tonight or something?"

Severus threw his head back laughing. "No! Our technology might be outdated but we're not that dependent on the old ways! Goat's stomachs are where bezoars come from. They are a universal antidote to most poisons. After tonight, I want to make sure we both always have some on us."

"Oh wow, I'm relieved to hear that! I was just about starting to regret asking you to come to Norway with me."

They chuckled, then fell silent.

After a while, Mette asked, "Why would Claire go that far? Killing someone so she can have you? From what it sounded like, she's not even that emotionally invested in you. She just needed you as a 'ticket' to the life style she wanted."

"You tell me," Severus said. "You got a glimpse into her emotions last year, didn't you? Maybe there was a clue in there."

"Right..." Mette said slowly. She stared into space for moment, then said, "It was rather short and I didn't pay attention to it. I just remember... I felt really gross. Like something repulsive was happening to me. And I felt helpless and extremely desperate." After a pause, she added, "Maybe I should go to St. Mungo's and offer her my help?"

Severus stared at her. "She kidnapped you, she tried to kill you and she invaded your privacy for months. And you want to help her?"

Mette lifted her shoulders, saying, "People can turn rather evil when something terrible happened to them while they were young."

"You should let some time pass. Think about it again in a few weeks. She might not be enthusiastic about receiving help from you of all people."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Speaking of invading my privacy... could you remove the patch that Kenneth put on me? Even though I know where it is, I can't find the edge to peel it off. These things are really well-made."

Severus detached it from her skin using his wand. This reminded him... "Um, I think we should check ourselves completely. There might be more of these."

"Right..." Mette said, "in places where the sun don't shine."

Severus' face got hot. He blurted, "I wanted to stop Claire that day but I didn't fully understand what was going on. And it all went so fast."

"You did look really uncomfortable," Mette said with a crooked smile.

"I was. I didn't like it."

Mette made a sympathetic noise and said, "Usually, this sort of thing is really enjoyable. I'll show you sometime." She gently put her hand on his cheek. "Do you want me to help you look for the patches now?"

"Yes." He swallowed.

She pulled the Thestral gloves out of the bag she had brought. After they had put them on, she started to unbutton his pyjama shirt. They took off each other's clothes until they were naked. The only other patch they found was stuck to Severus' right hip. His wand clattered onto the table. Her skin on his was paradise. Glued to each other, they fell onto the bed.

The next morning, Severus was woken up by a clicking noise that came from the window. Groggily, he got out of bed and opened it. An owl dropped a rolled-up newspaper into the room. Severus picked up the paper. When he removed the string that kept it rolled up, a letter fell out. He recognized the flourishing handwriting and the magenta ink. The letter said,

_Severus,_

_As of today, you may count yourself among Britain's celebrity wizards, which, of course, you have to thank me for. Despite what happened to poor Claire, I made good on my promise. It truly is the best piece of my career, if I say so myself. _

_Now, the next step will be an exhaustive biography of you. I will interview you at your earliest convenience. Do send your availability by return owl._

_Truly yours,_

_Rita Skeeter_

He dropped the letter to the floor with an incredulous laugh. "Go on then," he said to the owl. It hooted irritably and took off. Mette stirred, then stretched, yawning, and opened her eyes. When she saw him, she smiled and said, "Good morning." She sat up in bed. Severus came to sit next to her, unopened newspaper in hand. Mette's eyes widened. "She wrote it after all?"

"Yes. I don't think she's especially broken up about Claire."

"I'm not surprised. All those 'Darlings' and 'Honeys' they address each other with... it's all just for show. In the end, they'll claw each other's eyes out to get what they want. Are you going to read it?" She nodded at the newspaper

"I don't think so." He put the paper on his bedside table. "I really enjoyed how last night ended..." he said, not quite meeting Mette's eyes.

"Me too."

He could hear the smile in her voice.

She asked, "Want to do it again?"

"Yes, please."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

With lunch, a disgruntled Ab brought a big, sturdy cardboard box. "I'm not a mailman, you know!" he growled as he set down the box on the desk, which creaked under the weight. Ab took the covered serving platter off the top of the box and shoved it at Mette. "You'll have to come get the others yourselves."

"Other what?" Mette asked, confused.

"Letters!" Ab barked as he left.

Severus had joined Mette by the desk and took a handful of envelopes out of the box. "They are all addressed to me," he said, leafing through them.

Mette also took a wad of letters. "Fan mail."

"Or hate mail."

"Nah, I don't think so. This one has hearts drawn on the envelope. And the whole box smells like a flower shop. I think more than one of those is perfumed."

Severus scoffed. "Yesterday, they were ready to lynch me. Now they're sending fan mail?"

"The opinion of the masses is easily swayed. If you piss off Rita Skeeter, they might want to lynch you again next week."

"Well, I happen to have the perfect opportunity to piss her off. She wants to write my biography."

"Oh, wow."

"I can't wait to get out of this country." He stuffed the letters back into the box.

Neither he nor anyone else opened a single one of them.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Mette kept teaching to the end of the school year, while Severus lived at the Hog's Head. He still went into the school during the day, while lessons were on, to work on some potions recipes and start packing up. Minerva was allowing him to take everything from his office and private stores to Norway.

At the end of July, his former workplace was bare. So was Mette's cottage. All she owned, including all the Muggle kitchen appliances, where in one suitcase, thanks to Severus' help.

As they walked down the road to Hogsmeade station, Mette said, "I've had a really weird year. You?"

Severus laughed.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

They stepped out of the bus by the side of a narrow road.

"Now, we walk," Mette said. The road led into a pine forest. The summer sun heated up the trees and lifted their scent into the air. Severus stopped for a moment. The warmth and the smell enveloped him. He felt safe, for no one knew where he had gone. He could disappear here, maybe forever.

"Is your suitcase also too heavy?" Mette's voice pulled him back.

"Hm? No, I was just enjoying the forest.'

"It's great, isn't it? The smell always takes me back to when I was a child and used to spend my entire summer in here. I made a bow and arrows and shot it at squirrels. I never hit anything, though. I don't think I ever shot an arrow further than four metres or so. The bow was really wonky." She chuckled. "Anyway, can you make my suitcase any lighter?"

"I'm afraid not. I already made all your things as small and light as I could. If I overdid it, the magical density might become too great and your items could combust. And we with them. But I can levitate your suitcase. There's no one around, is there?"

"Not for miles!"

They kept walking, with Severus using his wand to make both their suitcases float along the path before them. The trees became less dense and a short distance away, there was nothing but open sky. As they stepped out from between the trees, Severus saw that they were standing on a cliff. On the other side of the fjord he saw another cliff rising up. There was so much space.

"There's the cabin," Mette said as she nodded toward a house a couple hundred metres away.

"Cabin!" Severus exclaimed. What he saw was a two-storey house, clad in slender wooden laths that had been bleached to a light grey by sun and salty air. The façade was broken by only a few high, narrow windows.

"Is your family rich?" Severus asked, astonished.

"Oh, yeah. Technically, I'm almost a Pureblood. One of my great-grandparents was a Muggleborn, I think. But apart from her – and my parents – my family is all wizards and witches, as far as the eye can see. 'The Pureblood Squib!'" she exclaimed as if announcing the next attraction of a Freak Show. "Ironic, huh?"

When they stepped into the house, Severus was greeted with another surprise. While from the outside, the house had looked almost like a fortress, the inside was bright and wide open. This was mainly due to the absence of walls in the main space, and the gigantic window front facing the fjord. Severus let down the suitcases, took off his shoes – that much he had learned about Norwegian habits – and walked to the wall of glass.

"Don't worry," Mette laughed from somewhere behind him, "there are also nice, cosy, dark rooms in this place."

He turned to her. "I'm not worried. There's no one here to watch me. Except you." He smiled. "How long can we stay here?"

"We can stay for about a year. It's my aunt's vacation home, and she just left last week. And even when she comes back, we can figure something out. Maybe your book will be almost finished by then."

"What book?"

"Your Potions book. People need to know everything you have found out. Didn't you say the subject of Potions needed expertise like yours?"

Severus gave her a sheepish look. He had said something along those lines, an eternity ago.

"Here's your chance," Mette said. "You can teach not only the students of Hogwarts, but every wizard in Britain, and maybe other countries, how to properly brew potions. And later, you can write advanced books on how to develop new ones. Go into the theory behind combining ingredients. I think we're looking at a good dozen volumes."

He blinked. How had he never thought of this before? It was perfect. In fact, he liked the idea so much, he felt like sitting down and starting to write straight away.

"Can I write it on your laptop?"

Mette laughed, "We'll get you your own!"

That same evening, Xanimus arrived on their doorstep via Portkey. He was the only one who Severus had told his location to.

"Wow!" the Healer exclaimed when he came in. "So much space!"

"Yes," Mette said, "I can finally breathe again! Living spaces in Britain are so small."

"Do you miss the dungeons yet?" Xanimus asked, looking at Severus. The latter laughed quietly and said, "No, this is different. Out here, I can look at the world, not the other way around."

Shortly afterwards, Mette retired to another room so Severus and Xanimus could start their session. They had agreed to meet every week for the time being.

When Xanimus had left, Mette came back into the living room. Severus had lit a fire in the fireplace.

When she sat down next to him, he said, "I'm ready."

She let a strand of his hair slide through her fingers. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I can always grow it back out."

"True." She gave him a crooked smile. "I'll get the scissors."

~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s

* * *

~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s~s

This is it, my friends! Thank you a million times, everyone who has read the entire story!

I'll be writing some one-shots and/or shorter spin-off stories. Harry will probably make an appearance and I was thinking about giving you a glimpse into Claire's past (how does one get so heinous?). I might also write out a scene or two that I've glossed over in the story ;) Oh, who am I kidding, I've already written _that_ scene °u°. Follow my profile to get an alert when I post.

If you liked it, tell your friends, rec it on reddit, blog about it on tumblr, tweet, do all the things! (I'm in the process of posting this story to tumblr as well, my username there is anne-caterina).

Until then, I love you all!

PS.: Big shoutout to my Italian reader who wrote a review for almost every single chapter! I could never answer you, unfortunately, because you weren't logged in ;) But I appreciate your engangement so, so much!


End file.
